


Tir Eoghan

by quercus



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-28
Updated: 2001-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quercus/pseuds/quercus





	1. Dubh-Linn

"This is a place of great evil."

I told General Hammond that after the last briefing. O'Neill and the others had left, Daniel Jackson watching me as he followed them. I remained.

The general's face was paler than usual. These are a pale people here, living under a mountain, but they become paler during times of great stress. He looked older than Master Bra'tac, even though he is less than half his age.

"I know," he told me sadly. I bowed my head. "In some things I have no choice, Teal'c. As a warrior, you understand this. Soldiers do as they're told."

I do understand. Many things in this life we must do although we do not wish to. Things we know to be antithetical to the best that resides in us. I was very sorry for General Hammond.

"Look after them, Teal'c," he finally said. I raised my head, concerned. His brow was furrowed and his eyes glittered. "I'm afraid for them. Look after them."

After a moment, I bowed again. There was nothing to say.

Daniel Jackson was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. "Are you all right?" he asked me.

"I am well, Daniel Jackson."

"But you stayed behind. Is it personal? Shouldn't I ask?"

As we walked along the corridor back to his office, I studied the young man at my side. Daniel Jackson is very dear to me. Through no fault of his own and much of mine, he has suffered. I would give this man my life to mitigate his emotional pain. Alas, such a sacrifice would not help him. I can only remain at his side, a loyal page to my scholar.

"It is not personal. I am concerned about our return to that place."

He nodded. "I don't like it there," he admitted. I felt an urge to comfort him, but it would be neither appropriate nor useful.

"You must continue your work on the translations," I finally said, and he nodded. We stopped outside his door. I put my hand on his shoulder and felt his tense muscles relax slightly. "Rest, Daniel Jackson. Then continue your work. SG-1 relies upon your great skills."

His face turned a red I have observed many times among the Tau'ri; they call it blushing. Jaffa do not blush. I believe it indicates embarrassment, although I could not think why Daniel Jackson would be embarrassed.

At last he said, "Thank you, Teal'c. I'll get right to work on it."

"Rest," I reminded him, and he smiled. I was strongly reminded of my son, Ry'ac, and knew he would not rest. "Daniel Jackson."

He sighed melodramatically and then smiled even more broadly. "Yes, Uncle Teal'c," he said. I knew this to be a joke at my expense.

"Very good, Nephew," I replied, and walked away to my quarters. I could feel him staring after me in surprise.

It is good to surprise Daniel Jackson sometimes. He will then take one more seriously.

As I settled into kel-no-reem, I thought again of the place we were to return in two days times. It was a place of great evil. My symbiote stirred uncomfortably.

* * *

Daniel stared at the photographs of the obelisk scattered over his desk. He understood why Teal'c was concerned about returning to P3X-468. He didn't like it there. The air smelled wrong, for one thing; the minute he'd stepped through the stargate, he'd known he wasn't on earth simply by the smell and feel of the air on his face. Almost oily.

Although Sam insisted P3X-468's sun was very similar to earth's, to Daniel it had seemed darker. Redder. And the air had been filled with some photochemical haze that had burned his eyes and irritated his skin. When he'd looked into the mirror in the men's room, he looked sunburned and bloodshot. Janet had found nothing wrong with them, though.

He picked up one of the photos and studied it. This was one of a patchwork of photographs he'd taken of the obelisk they'd found in what had probably been a city square. The city had been badly damaged, and then time and weather had worn the fragments down, yet the obelisk still stood. Dark and ominous, deep red, nearly black in color, the words were deeply gashed into the hardened clay.

Daniel thought the language might have originated in one of the Celtic languages, probably a Goidelic. Not his strength, really, but he had enough dictionaries and experience that he could manage. He cast his mind over the current staff of the SGC linguistics department; J. J. Ruadh would be able to help, too. He picked up the phone and called her extension, leaving a voicemail asking her to stop by.

He settled at his desk, wishing for a cup of coffee but too involved to take the time to start a fresh pot, and began again.

When J. J. stuck her head in the office, he'd pieced together the photos, laying them out along the table against the wall, so they formed the lower third of the obelisk, all he'd been able to reach and clearly make out the words. "Hey," he said without looking up, and heard her sigh. He knew he had a reputation for rudeness, except it wasn't really. He was just busy.

He looked at her. "Hi, J. J."

"Daniel. You look deep in thought."

"I think this might be related to one of the Goidelic languages. Would you help me?" That was a disingenuous question; of course she would. He was her boss and, besides, this was her area of specialty. She gave him a look that told him she knew what he was thinking, and then joined him at the table.

Leaning on her elbows, she bent over the pictures, studying them. "I think you're right," she murmured, and he handed her a pad of paper and pencil.

"This is what I've got so far."

She reluctantly took her eyes from the photos and quickly read what he'd written. She looked up at him; nearly a foot shorter than he was, she had to crane her head back, her long red-brown braid falling straight down like a cat's tail. "I'm impressed. For an Egyptologist, you have a good grasp of the Gaelic."

He was unmoved. Of course he did. Let's get on with the translation.

She held the pad next to the lowest photo and compared his words to the impressions in the clay. "This should perhaps be 'evil,' rather than 'sinful,'" she murmured, and he remembered her annoying habit of nearly constantly whispering. He swallowed the urge to shout, "What?" at her, the way Jack always did. The thought made his mouth twitch and he had to fight a smile. She glanced suspiciously at him, but continued. "Do you think this should be 'darkness' or 'obscurity'?"

"In context, I think 'darkness.'"

She nodded. He decided it was time to make that coffee.

At last, they had a translation they both felt satisfied with. He stared at the pad, crossed out, rewritten, carets inserted. "This is -- uncomfortable."

"Something bad happened there," she agreed. "I don't envy you having to go back."

Daniel remembered what Teal'c had said. "No," he agreed, staring at the pad. Jack wouldn't like this at all.

"Kids," Jack said, and Daniel jumped. "Oh, hey, J. J," he added in a louder voice.

"Hello, Colonel O'Neill," she murmured, and handed the pad back to Daniel. "If there's anything else?"

"No, thanks, J. J. I'll call you." She just nodded her head again and left, slipping through the door as far from Jack as she could get. When she'd gone, Daniel said, "She doesn't like you."

"No shit, Sherlock." Jack poked his head out into the hall and then looked at Daniel. "What's her prob, anyway? Why's she always whispering?"

"I haven't the faintest idea."

An old joke. One Daniel still loved. They stared at each other, and Jack drew nearer. "Your coffee's burning, Daniel. Come have dinner with me."

"Oh, joy. Commissary food. Air Force food."

"Breakfast of champions. I'll order you to." Daniel rolled his eyes at Jack. "I'll beg."

"Begging will work."

Jack stood next to him, staring down at the mess on the long table and at the pad in his hand. "What's this?"

His question reminded Daniel of how he'd spent the last few hours, and he tossed the pad on top of the table, ignoring how the glossy photos scattered. "Nothing. Let's eat."

Jack was clearly puzzled, Daniel saw, but he didn't care. He wanted to spare Jack a bit longer.

Once they'd settled at a table, sandwiches and coffee spread out before them, Daniel asked, "What d'you think of that planet, P3X-468?"

Through a big bite of roast beef with mustard, Jack said, "What's to think? It's a planet."

Daniel waited until he swallowed, waited him out. Jack always caved if Daniel could just wait long enough. Or had a tantrum.

At last he said, "I dunno, Daniel. It was big, it was stinky, it was creepy. What d'you think of it?"

"Big, stinky, creepy," he agreed, and took a bite of his tuna fish. He wondered if he should worry about the mercury in fish, but decided he had enough to worry about already.

"So?"

He watched Jack methodically work his way through the first and then second half of the sandwich, then a bag of chips, which Daniel stole from freely. Jack smacked his hand once, but he didn't stop. When he finished his own sandwich, he sipped his coffee, nasty stuff, and said, "Why creepy?"

Jack popped another chip in his mouth. "Why did you say it was creepy?"

"I asked you first."

"So?"

"So, why did you say it was creepy?"

Jack rolled his head against the ratty seatback. "Because it was creepy?" Daniel shivered in irritation. "Okay. I don't know. It just felt -- off. Maybe the fact that everybody was dead, destroyed. I felt like a grave robber."

That was partly it, Daniel thought. They'd been sent to P3X-468 to look for weapons technology. The planet was dead, or at least, all sentient life appeared to be dead, and long ago. The UAVs they'd sent had found city after destroyed city, empty of all life. Empty windows had stared back at them from the MALP's camera. And their first two days on the planet had brought them nothing.

"Yeah," he agreed softly, and saw Jack surreptitiously study him. But Jack wasn't good at surreptitious when it came to Daniel, he thought, and smiled. "I'm okay. It's what archaeologists do."

"Rob graves? That's my line."

"Yeah. Well.

"I'm sorry, Daniel."

"No, it's okay. I'm not looking forward to going back, though."

"No. Me, neither."

They sat for a while longer in the emptying commissary, picking at the crumbs at the bottom on the foil potato chip bag. Daniel rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"You should go home. Get some rest."

"It's still early."

"You're still tired."

Daniel sneaked a peek at Jack from under his lashes. He looked tired, too, and concerned. "I think I'll crash here. That way if I can't sleep, I can go back to my office."

"Naw. Come on. I'll take you home."

"Ja-ack."

"Daniel." He started bundling up the detritus of their meal; Daniel helped him, ferrying it to a nearby trash can. They argued all the way to the surface, but Daniel let himself be chivied into Jack's pickup and ultimately into his guest bedroom. He listened to Jack showering, wishing he felt better. One more day and then they'd have to go back.

He didn't want to go back.

Jack's guest room was familiar to him after all these years. He'd often found himself here, usually willingly, occasionally not, but grateful for Jack's persistence and even his browbeating. Daniel could stand up to Jack just fine, and had many times. He wasn't an easy man to bully, unless he wanted what Jack was offering, and tonight he did. Jack's prickly comfort soothed him, in a way other people could not.

He rolled onto his side, staring into the darkness, listening as the water shut off and the glass doors of the shower stall slid open. Jack was a noisy guy, especially after living alone for the last few years, and Daniel was grateful for the noise. It reminded him that he wasn't alone. That he could, if he chose, get up and go to Jack, demand conversation, a beer, a game of chess, and Jack would, grumblingly, oblige. Daniel liked lying in Jack's guest room knowing that Jack was only a few yards away. Like a kid, he chastised himself, but he smiled. Jack was the kid in this relationship; Daniel had scolded Jack many times that, although he was older chronologically, he would never be as mature as Daniel. Jack usually started horsing around then, trying to piss Daniel off and disprove him.

The lights went out. Jack was finally in bed. Soon, Daniel knew, he'd hear Jack's soft snores, another reminder that he was near. Daniel would be able to sleep then.

* * *

Jack lay in bed for a long time, thinking about Daniel's question about P3X-468. He really hadn't liked it there. He couldn't explain why, not to himself and certainly to Daniel, whose incisive intelligence demanded elaborate explanations and detailed analyses. Jack tended to operate on gut feelings, and his experiences in the military had given him great respect for his gut feelings.

Yet he knew he wasn't being entirely fair to Daniel, who often would accept Jack's decisions and seemed to respect his experience. As long as Jack didn't couch it in too militaristic of terms, or appear to be following some party line rather than his own principles. And as frustrating as Jack found that, he also appreciated it -- that Daniel appreciated and respected and liked *him*. Not many people in this world, or any other, did, Jack knew. It was one of his many Achilles' heels with Daniel. Hell, Daniel was just one big Achilles' heel to Jack.

He rolled onto his side, staring into the darkness, listening to Daniel toss and turn in the guest bedroom. He wondered if he should get up and suggest a game of chess. They both were a little edgy; maybe a cognac would help.

And in Jack's secret heart, he longed to be near Daniel tonight. Any off-world mission was hazardous; their lives were balanced precariously on the edge of the impossibility of their occupation. They could lose each other any time, and had thought they'd lost each other many times. A wave of hopelessness washed through Jack as he remembered the times he'd said goodbye to Daniel not knowing if they'd ever meet again. Every single time they stepped through the gate, the chances they wouldn't return increased. Carter had once, in her pedantic, statistician's way, tried to explain that that was folklore; that each time through carried the same odds as the last, but Jack didn't believe her. Lies, damned lies, and statistics, Mark Twain had said, and that was good enough for Jack.

When he heard Daniel again, he decided. Flicking on the small bedside light, he rose and pulled on the frayed flannel robe Sara had given him a decade ago, and went to Daniel's room. The door was ajar, and he paused for a moment, listening. He didn't want to wake Daniel; he knew he didn't get enough sleep.

"Jack?" his soft, slightly nasal voice called, and Jack pushed open the door.

"Hey."

"Hey." In the dim light, he saw Daniel sit up, rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong? I didn't hear the phone ring."

"No, nothing's wrong. Just couldn't sleep. Wondered if you'd like a cognac with me."

Even in the faint light, he could see Daniel smile. "Yeah. I'd like that." He climbed out of bed and Jack handed him the newer robe he'd bought himself after Sara had left but that had somehow become Daniel's. His hand brushed Daniel's in the dark, and Jack closed his eyes for an instant. "What is it?" Daniel whispered.

"Nothing." They stared at each other in the quiet of late night. Only an occasional car, its tires shushing in the damp night, disturbed their silence.

Daniel pulled on the robe and, to Jack's pleasure, in the same rolling gesture, pulled Jack to him, embracing him tenderly. Jack sighed and rested against Daniel's shoulder. He was so tired. He was too old to be leading the flagship team, he thought.

Daniel didn't speak, didn't offer him platitudes or false comfort; Daniel, too, knew their odds. He was no more a statistician than Jack was and had arrogantly waved away Carter's arguments in support of Jack's assertions. Jack smiled against the heavy cotton of Daniel's robe in memory of Carter's frustration with them. Not the first nor the last time they'd united against the face of her mathematical babbling. He tightened his arms around Daniel, thinking how odd to be standing here, holding this man, being held by him.

At last, he raised his head. "I promised you a cognac."

"So you did." Daniel led them out into the hallway and then the dining room, where he knew Jack stored his booze in a china cabinet. They turned on no lights, letting the street lamp outside illuminate their passage. Jack rarely drank spirits, preferring beer, but Daniel had taught him the pleasure of what he sometimes called la liqueur des anges. Jack had been dismayed when, one December when shopping for Daniel's birthday, he learned he could spend over a thousand dollars for a single bottle. Finally, he'd popped ninety dollars for a Paul Beau Borderies Extra Vieilles, forty years old and in a pretty bottle.

"Someday I'll take you to Saint-leger church in Charente," Daniel said as he always did when Jack pulled out the Paul Beau. "Maybe we'll go to the blues festival, too."

"I'd like that," he agreed, as he always did, and poured the cognac. He was sorry now that he hadn't spent more money; Daniel loved it so much. Clearly, it brought back pleasant memories, although Jack had never succeeded in getting Daniel to reminisce about them. They lifted the glasses and paused, staring at each other in the low light, the alcohol fumes rising sweetly between them.

"Slainte," Jack finally said, and Daniel smiled.

"Bless the corners of this house and all the lintel blessed," he said, and they drank.

They sat at the kitchen table, Jack's bare feet curled around the rung of his chair, and slowly sipped their cognac. He felt comforted, as he'd known he would be, by Daniel sitting so near. He supposed he should discuss their upcoming mission, but not here. Not in his home, in the middle of the night, in this brief moment of solace.

To assuage one's grief and fears, he thought, hearing Daniel in his head. "Where's the word 'solace' come from?" he asked suddenly.

"From a Latin word meaning to console." He didn't ask why, just gazed at Jack over the lip of his glass. He already knew, Jack thought. More than anyone Jack had ever known, Daniel always knew.

They finished their cognac in silence, Jack rinsing the glasses but leaving them on the counter to wash with their breakfast dishes. When they paused outside the door to Daniel's room, he hesitated, a little shy. But it was late, he was tired, the cognac was working its magic, and he feared their upcoming mission. He held open his arms, a crooked and embarrassed smile on his face, he knew, and Daniel stepped into them. They held on for a long minute. Solace, Jack thought, and then let go.

"G'night," Daniel whispered, and slipped away from him. Jack watched as he slid into bed, rolling into the covers, and then he pulled the door nearly closed.

"Good night," he whispered, and went to bed himself.

* * *

Sam found Colonel O'Neill and Daniel sharing a table in the commissary, drinking coffee and reading the paper, but not speaking. Sometimes they pissed her off, how they'd fight and squabble and play tricks on each other, but she envied their ability just to be together. Without talking, without even appearing to take notice of the other's presence. It spoke of a confidence in their relationship, almost an arrogance, a taking-for-granted of the other that she deeply envied. Never in her life had she had such a relationship. And while she felt close to Daniel, she knew what they shared was nothing compared to what he shared with the colonel.

Sighing, she scraped back a chair and plopped down, spilling a drop of coffee into her scrambled eggs. "Good morning," she said cheerily. The colonel grunted, and Daniel peered at her over the top of his newspaper, then gave her a smile.

"Good morning, Sam." He sounded a little surprised, as if he hadn't realized she was there, and a little hoarse, as if his allergies were acting up, and sure enough he sniffed. O'Neill tossed a packet of kleenex across the table, so it smacked into the newspaper Daniel held. She rolled her eyes, glad her commanding officer couldn't see her annoyance.

She'd had a bad night. She didn't need this. Her scrambled eggs were dry, too.

"Daniel's scheduled a briefing with Hammond at ten," O'Neill said without looking up from the newspaper next to his plate.

She looked at Daniel's newspaper, but it didn't move. Sighing, she ate her eggs. Once he had a bit more coffee, he'd be talking her ear off, she knew; she could wait.

Eventually, the paper came down and was neatly folded before O'Neill picked it, up, irritably shook it out, and started reading it. Daniel gave him a look, but said to Sam, "It's about P3X-468. J. J. helped me translate some of the writing on that obelisk that has me concerned, as does the mere existence of the obelisk." Sam made a puzzled face. "It shouldn't exist. Not amidst all that ruin. It doesn't make archaeological or geological sense."

"Later, Daniel," the colonel said, and drank down his coffee. "Finish your little light show for the general, and we'll see you at ten."

Again, Sam felt a flash of annoyance at her CO, but Daniel just gave him another cool look. She wondered if O'Neill was jealous of the time Daniel spent with her, two scientists sharing something the two men couldn't, but dismissed the thought as unworthy of all three of them. He just had a bad night, too. Maybe. "I'll stop by your lab later, Daniel," she said, a tiny bit maliciously, but Jack only continued to stare at the paper.

She bussed her tray, grabbed another coffee, and retreated to her own lab, where she was studying the photos they'd taken when last on P3X-468 and readouts from the UAVs they'd sent through. Hammond had charged them with finding the technology these people had destroyed themselves with. She knew, without discussing it with him, how Daniel considered such a mandate. And, to be honest with herself, she agreed with him, not with Hammond. She'd be willing to bet that Hammond agreed with Daniel, too, and not with his anonymous masters, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and whoever controlled them.

But she was a soldier, and soldiers did as they were told. So she studied the infrared readouts with an experienced eye, matching them to the photos, speculating where she might find what they were so reluctantly seeking.

At last she sat up, stretching her back and neck. She really needed Daniel's help to decipher these images. He could tell her what was a temple, what a home, what a manufacturing plant. Besides, he had much better coffee than she could ever make.

She glanced at her chronometer; nearly nine-thirty. The briefing was at ten. She'd run by Daniel's for a quick consult and then with him to Hammond's.

He was there, of course, putting the finishing touches on his PowerPoint presentation, scanning an image in and cropping it. She watched him for a minute, thinking again what a handsome man he was and how much she liked him. Without turning around, he said, "Come in, Sam. Have some coffee."

"Thanks, Daniel." She refreshed his nearly empty cup as well, and then stood behind him, watching him rapidly click through the slides. "Looks good."

"Hmm."

"Listen, we only have a few minutes. Can you help me?"

He turned to face her, as she'd known he would. "Of course. What can I do?"

She set down her coffee and spread out the most recent map she'd made, laying next to it photos of the buildings. "What are we looking at?"

He stared at the assemblage, biting his lower lip. "Not much left, is there." he murmured. He pointed to the central square of the city, a broad open space of cracked white stones, slowly filling with soil and a scabby plant growth. "I think it's reasonable to assume that the centers of power would be located near here. Like Red Square, or the Mall in DC."

His long fingers traced the perimeter of the square. The stargate wasn't far from it, in a direct line, so someone standing at the stargate looked straight into the square and then into what had obviously once been a massive building. His fingers stopped there. "Government offices," he said. "Mayor, president, general, whatever. Somebody in charge, at least a figurehead." He continued his circuit around the square, stopping at a building nearest the stargate and to its right. "See the open space behind this building? Unusual, in a civic center. My guess is the military were here. Some sort of parade ground, I suppose, back here. Like at the early California missions."

"Would we find weapons there?"

He looked up at her. "You're the soldier," he reminded her, and she nodded, and sighed.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But it's a place to start."

He looked back at her map. "They had to build weapons somewhere. I would guess we'll have to get away from the city center to find it. What if there was an accident? It'll be on the outskirts."

"I have more UAV data," she offered. "But it's time to go now."

"I'll look at them afterwards." He clicked "save," and uploaded the PowerPoint to the server, where he could access it from the briefing room, and they left.

Teal'c met them, apparently waiting for them. "You are well?" he asked, and Daniel gave him that killer smile.

"I'm fine, Teal'c. How are you today?"

"I am well, Daniel Jackson. Major Carter?"

"Fine, thank you, Teal'c." She couldn't think of anything else to say to him, so they walked in silence. O'Neill was waiting for them, and SG-1 entered the briefing room as a team.

As usual, she sat with Teal'c, and Daniel with the colonel. "Good morning, people," Hammond greeted them as they settled. "Doctor Jackson has asked me to call this meeting, so I'll turn it over to him."

Daniel smiled at him, and Sam saw Hammond's face relax a little. Daniel seemed to have that effect on anyone; even her father was susceptible to his charms, which simultaneously pleased and annoyed her. Daniel stood, clicked off the lights, and the show started.

First up were a series of photographs of the area they'd surveyed on P3X-468, and he quickly passed through them until he came to the obelisk. "This is what I wanted to talk to you about," he said, staring at the sinister monolith, the light from the slide show bouncing back onto his face, sharpening his cheekbones and making his eyes glitter.

"I've been able to translate the first third of it, with the help of Doctor Ruadh. It's a Goidelic language, distantly related to Irish Gaelic, one of her specialties.

"I'll get to the translation in a minute. First, though, I want to point out that the existence of this obelisk is in itself troubling. Look at the destruction of this and all the cities on this planet. They apparently destroyed themselves, from the little we know. The air is foul, the earth polluted, the plants stunted and deformed."

"We don't know that, Daniel," O'Neill interrupted him. "Aren't you being geocentric in your judgment?"

"Perhaps, and that's a good point, Jack. But I don't think so. I talked to the geologists and botanists who've been working on the data the UAV and MALP sent back, and they find high levels of radioactivity in the soil, too high for life to have developed there. I'm not a geologist, I'm not a botanist, but what the obelisk says supports their speculation.

"And look at it -- how can something so fragile remain standing when every other building on the planet is smashed? It doesn't make any sense."

Sam saw O'Neill nod, and she agreed, too. It was a good call on Daniel's part.

"But the translation persuaded me that the obelisk was added much later. Perhaps even by another people, someone who came through the stargate and found what we did: weapons of mass destruction had destroyed the inhabitants and ruined their ecosystem."

"What does the obelisk say?" Hammond asked gently.

Daniel clicked and another slide appeared, a close up of the writing. "Notice the design here -- what looks to me like a stylized leaf. I think this is where to begin." He sighed, and picked up a notepad. Sam saw it was heavily annotated, with thick lines drawn across it.

"It is a slow, plodding evil which overtakes," he read. "Darkness comes, bitter in the mouth, stinging to the eye. They fall, they fall, they cease to breathe and their spirits reluctantly depart, clinging to their poisoned bodies with a persistence that frightens.

"The earth groans beneath their weight, the sky sours from their presence, the water curdles and seeps away, as if to flee, as all should flee this place.

"For the evil remains. The evil remains. Fear this world: it has been consumed by a pestilence of the soul that rejoices in death and death and still more death. All are fallen, no one lives, but the evil remains, seeking means to capture other souls, sweet in their innocence.

"Flee this place. We did not, and we fall, too. Evil remains, poisoning the earth and poisoning us. It is a slow, plodding evil, and we fall."

He sighed. The room was silent. Sam was very uncomfortable. It reminded her of overwrought fundamentalists, preaching of the end of the world. She glanced at O'Neill, but his face was neutral. Teal'c looked disturbed, as did Hammond.

At last, Daniel said, "I think someone else did as we're doing. Went to the planet seeking weapons technology. And then they succumbed to whatever poisons remain in the soil and air. I can smell it, and I know you can, too."

"It sounds medieval," Sam said, a little embarrassed.

"Yes, actually, it does. 'I, waiting for death, have put into writing all the things that I have witnessed.' From Brother John Clyn, in thirteen forty-nine, after witnessing all the brothers at his monastery die of the Black Plague."

After another moment, Daniel flicked on the lights and sat next to Jack, who still looked neutral. Hammond's head was bowed. When an uncomfortably long moment had passed, he raised his head and looked around at SG-1.

"You know," he said softly, "that we are part of the military. That implies a chain of command, which includes even you, Doctor Jackson." Daniel nodded slightly. "That furthermore implies that we follow orders. To do less would be considered an act of treason.

"For that reason, and that reason alone, I do not have the authority to cancel this mission. However, as you all know, there are other reasons. Earth faces its greatest enemies in the Goa'uld, but there are others, here among us, we must also fight. We need weapons. We need technology.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Jackson. The mission is still a go. SG-1 is scheduled to depart at oh-eight hundred tomorrow.

"Thank you for your hard work, and for your concerns. Colonel O'Neill will, I'm sure, take them into consideration in his plans for the mission tomorrow. You will all pack accordingly, and take appropriate equipment to face a biohazard. I will personally inform Doctor Fraiser what we may be facing."

He looked into each of their faces. Sam felt herself blush slightly. "Colonel O'Neill. Take care of your team." The two old soldiers stared at each other, and then Hammond said, "Dismissed." Sam rose smartly and watched as Daniel turned to the colonel, an expectant look on his face. O'Neill smiled at him, and lightly touched his forearm before rising himself.

"Thank you, sir," he said to the general, and followed Daniel out of the briefing room.

"My office, Jack?" Daniel said, twisting back to look at Jack over his shoulder, and the colonel nodded. Sam followed, Teal'c at her side.

"What did you think?" she asked him.

"I believe Daniel Jackson to be correct. We face danger on P3X-468."

"Teal'c," O'Neill said sharply. "We face danger every time we step through that gate."

"We do. However, there is a quality to P3X-468 that I find unhealthy. Disconcerting."

"Bad vibes," O'Neill muttered.

"You should listen to Teal'c," Daniel said earnestly.

Once they were in his office, Daniel turned to face them, his eyes wide and innocent behind his glasses. "Sam, what do you think?"

She glanced at O'Neill, but he was looking determinedly at Daniel, so no help there. "We have our orders," she finally said, but as she'd known he would, Daniel waved her words away.

"I know about the orders," he said impatiently. "I'm asking you what you *think*. Come on, Sam; you're the smartest person I know."

She looked at him, staring intently at her, willing her to stop playing the good soldier and speak her heart. At last, O'Neill told her, "You have permission to speak freely, Carter."

The silence stretched on. Sam was torn; she didn't know what to say. "I don't know, Daniel," she said, deciding to tell him the truth. "I honestly don't know what to think. I think your point about the obelisk is a good one; it shouldn't still be standing if it was present during whatever caused all the destruction. And I do find the words on it disturbing.

"But, Daniel. Even without orders, we need weapons technology. These people obviously had it. Maybe we can control it, maybe we can learn from their example."

Daniel looked hurt and a little offended. She realized he had assumed she would support him. "I'm sorry," she murmured. He shook his head and looked away.

"Teal'c," O'Neill said. "Your opinion?"

"I concur with Daniel Jackson. It is more than the danger we face each time we emerge from the event horizon. There is a great evil there. A slow and plodding evil."

O'Neill sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Great," he muttered. Finally, he looked at Daniel. "You realize we have to go." Daniel nodded warily. "We'll be careful, Daniel. No one goes off on their own, and that includes you, okay?"

"I promise."

"All four of us stick together. Carter, talk to Fraiser about supplies, and about some kind of de-con when we return. We all need to wear those little badges that indicate the amount of radiation we're absorbing, just in case. We'll wear two layers of gloves. No eating or drinking on the planet; we'll come home for that. Plan to get a little thirsty and hungry."

"Yes, sir," Sam said, and Daniel and Teal'c nodded. It wasn't enough, she thought, but it was more than anyone else would have given them.

Because what if Daniel were right, and some evil remained there, seeking hosts the way the Goa'uld did? O'Neill made a gesture that she interpreted as "dismissed," and she hurried to Janet's infirmary.

* * *

Jack was right, Daniel thought as he emerged from the event horizon on P3X-468; the atmosphere here *was* stinky. And creepy. Very creepy.

A light, warm wind ruffled his hair as he looked around him. High thin clouds veiled the sky, and the sun glowed like a silver disk behind them, the color of a Goa'uld's eyes. If he were on earth, he'd guess that a front was moving in, a change in the weather. Here, on P3X-468, he didn't know what this weather meant, but it boded ill to him.

He looked at Jack, also surveying the country and exchanging meaningful glances with Teal'c. None of them, he knew, desired to be here. None of them valued this mission's objectives. Yet they were bound by service to obey, and he was bound to them by personal loyalties too complex to unravel.

The FRED sent through before them was quietly unpacked, and eventually Sam was able to launch a UAV in a circle around the city, looking for where weapons might have been produced. They spoke only to give directions or make requests, and Daniel was relieved when he saw the thing zoom off. He yawned; he hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before. Jack was watching him, he noticed, and he smiled at him, hoping to comfort him, but Jack just nodded.

Sam followed the UAV on her laptop, leaning against the FRED to watch its progress and the images it was returning. They'd need to study them at home, for which Daniel was grateful; no way would they be trekking after it this time. Yet it meant they might have to return yet again.

Finally, they heard the piercing whine of the returning UAV, and Sam skillfully landed it only a few yards away from them. Almost immediately, Jack indicated that Teal'c should take point and Carter go left, Daniel knew he should go right, with Jack not far behind him.

They crunched through the dying landscape, the earth cracked and broken, stunted scraggly bushes marring it like scabs. The city was not far from the stargate, always worrisome in Daniel's experience. Less than two miles, so they were there in just over thirty minutes. The air grew more noxious the nearer they drew, until even Jack grimaced and Daniel sneezed. He imagined he was smelling death, even though the bodies that must've strewn the square were long since returned to the elements. Unmourned, he thought, his mouth curling in dislike.

The obelisk gathered darkness to it. He'd had to use special lighting to capture the words pressed into it; under this gloomy sky, only its shape was clear, a finger pointing to heaven or a marker of the catastrophe. This time, they did not enter the square but turned to their right, to investigate what Daniel had identified as a military garrison.

Like all the other buildings they'd seen, this was blasted into automobile-sized chunks of what looked like steel and concrete. Enormous rods of rebar stuck out like giants' bayonets, rusting and crumbling. They had to pick their way carefully through the mess and once ended up in a kind of cul-de-sac from which they had to retrace their path. When they finally worked their way through the building, into what looked like a parade ground behind it, they saw nothing but what they'd found all along: ruins so blasted as to be unrecognizable.

"Goddammit," Jack finally said, sounding more sad than angry. "What is this place? Daniel?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Just the location and shape made me think it might be military."

"Well, if it was, there's nothing left." He turned in a circle. "Goddammit," he said again, more quietly. "Nothing left." He looked at Daniel. "Earth gonna look like this one day?"

"Maybe."

"All worlds end, O'Neill. This I have seen in my service to Apophis."

"Yeah. Not even the great Ozymandias." Teal'c looked puzzled, but remained silent. Daniel smiled at him and made a mental note to introduce him to Shelley later. "We should go back. We got enough now. Carter and the crew back at SGC can sweat over the UAV's intel."

They turned to go, but Daniel paused for a moment, to look over the destruction left by whatever disaster had destroyed this place. He could find no good here at all: no singing bird, no return to nature, that spoke of hope for this world. Everywhere was death. Not even the Goa'uld left such havoc.

"Daniel!" Jack called impatiently, and he followed the others, lost in thought. Thus the first clue he had that there was a problem was when he stepped into nothing and the ugly world disappeared.

Like Alice, he thought as he fell, except it wasn't much like falling and he couldn't see any bottles lining shelves around him. Just a slow movement through a warm dark space. A birth canal maybe. Maybe he'd been killed and was going to be reborn. Then Daniel realized he must be in shock or delirious and then he landed.

* * *

Jack hurt. Every bone in his body ached, every muscle complained, even his teeth hurt, as he lay sprawled on top of his lumpy pack. He'd dropped his P90, but it still hung from his neck; the cord he clipped it to pulled tight around this throat. All the wind had been knocked from him, a terrifying sensation until he could finally gasp for breath. Shit.

As soon as he had enough air in his lungs, he began to bellow for his teammates. "Daniel! Carter! Teal'c!" He took a deep breath but before he could open his mouth again, he heard something, behind him and to his right. "Who's there?" he roared, rolling like a turtle on its back, grabbing for his weapon.

"Jack?" came a faint voice, unmistakably Daniel's. Jack sighed with relief.

"Keep talkin', Danny," he said. "Stay put and I'll come to you."

"What should I say?"

"Anything. Tell me about old rocks."

"Artifacts."

"Whatever."

"Um. What would you like to know?"

"I wouldn't like to know anything; I just need something to home in on, Daniel. Sing." There was a long pause. "You're defeating the purpose, Daniel."

"My bonny lies over the ocean; my bonny lies over the sea. My bonny lies over the ocean; please bring back my bonny to me. Bring back, bring --"

"Okay, okay. I'm here." Jack carefully put his hand out and hoped he wasn't about to stick a finger into Daniel's eye. He bumped against something warm and solid: his back. "Hey."

Daniel turned and grasped his hand. "Oh, Jack," he said, and Jack's heart, to his embarrassment, swelled with pride at the relief in Daniel's voice. "What happened? Where are we?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"I fell."

"Duh."

"Do you have a beard?"

"Excuse me?" He touched his own face and discovered he did, indeed, have the start of a beard. "Good god. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know. But we must've been unconscious a long time."

"Shit. Don't suppose you've heard from Sam or Teal'c?"

"Jack."

"Just being thorough."

They sat there in the warm dark, huddling together for comfort, Jack admitted to himself. Daniel was still holding his hand with both of his, holding on for dear life. Jack had no complaint.

"For shit's sake," he suddenly said, slapping at his vest. "Why are we sitting in the dark when we've got flashlights."

"Because they don't work."

"Oh." He flicked the light on and off uselessly, but Daniel was right. "Shit."

"I think this is a weapon."

"What is?"

"This place. What's happened to us. I think we've, uh, achieved our mission's objective."

Jack thought for a while. Either Daniel was delirious, or he was right. "So you think we sort of stepped into a weapon."

"Yeah." But he didn't sound at all confident. And Jack wasn't sure what good a weapon like this would be. Except it did get them off the battlefield, so to speak. Put them out of commission. And might explain why there wasn't anybody on the planet.

"Is this the evil? The slow and plodding evil?"

For nearly a minute, there was no answer, just Daniel's warm presence, leaning against Jack's shoulder, holding his rather sweaty hand. At last Daniel said, "I think this grew out of the evil. But I don't know what the evil was. Maybe a mindset? I don't know. We don't know who wrote those words, we don't know their culture, so we can't know what they even meant by the word 'evil.'"

"You said it was Celtic, yeah?"

"The language, yes."

"So maybe the culture?"

"Maybe."

Jack sighed. "In case you hadn't noticed it, I'm kinda Celtic."

"With a name like O'Neill, I sorta figured."

"So. I'm no scholar, but I've read a bit. Back in high school, mostly. But I read that the early Celts valued family above all else. So maybe something that destroyed families would be evil?"

Daniel chuckled very softly. "You're a scholar, Jack. 'Scholar' is from the Sanskrit word 'sahate," which means 'he prevails.'"

"Cool."

They sat quietly again, Jack taking comfort in Daniel's endless store of trivia and, being honest, in his trust in Jack's abilities. "He prevails," indeed. Well, he'd have to prevail here. He wouldn't let Daniel down.

"It makes sense," Daniel said, startling Jack. "If this weapon steals people away, separating them from their families, it would be considered evil. But I still think it's more than that."

"Yeah." Daniel was probably right. "Listen, we need to do an inventory, get some fluids in us, and find the others, okay?"

They spent some time scrabbling through their pockets and packs. Of the most use were the waterproof matches they each carried and which, unlike the flashlights, worked in the dark. Jack caught his breath when he finally saw Daniel's face in the flicker yellow light.

His beard was well-started and dark, not yet streaked with grey as Jack knew his was. His glasses were gone, and his eyes wide in the dark, and he had a bruise along his cheekbone. Jack lightly traced it, but the skin and bone were unbroken. He was trembling in Jack's grasp and when the match went out, Jack tossed it away and pulled Daniel to him, hanging on for dear life. Daniel clung to him, and Jack realized how well he'd been hiding his fear.

"How long were you awake?" he asked gently. Daniel shivered.

"A long time," he finally whispered. "I called and called, but nobody heard me."

"I'm sorry, Danny."

"It's okay. You're here now."

"Yeah. Now." Not when Daniel needed him, though. Shit. When Jack was able, he released Daniel and opened a water bottle. "Drink up," he advised him. No idea how long they'd been out; no use getting dehydrated. He heard Daniel swallow and sigh with relief and pleasure, and then he drank, too.

Next, figure out what to do. They couldn't sit here forever, in the hopes that Carter or Teal'c would find them. Nor did he want to get separated from Daniel when they went wandering around. They split a power bar, had a bit more water, and they stood, helping each other adjust their packs more comfortably.

"Okay, Danny. This place is too big for a little match to show us where we are. Spit and choose a direction."

"I've been thinking about that. Light another match."

"I don't want to waste them."

"This won't be a waste. Light one."

As soon as the tiny flame spurted, Jack saw Daniel was right. There was a slight wind coming from behind him. He turned and faced it as the match flickered out. "Good idea." He took Daniel's hand. "Careful, now. Stay a step behind me, not beside me. Don't let go, no matter what."

He set off, not knowing if his next step would plunge him into another free-fall or slam him into a dead end. Somehow, having Daniel at his back made him feel significantly more confident, and the mantel of responsibility settled over him again, as satisfying as it was unwelcome. It gave him a purpose as well as a fear of failure. He gripped Daniel's hand more firmly.

* * *

Sam turned in another circle, her stomach twisting as well. "Teal'c, they can't simply disappear. People don't just disappear."

"Nirrti can. The rings can make people disappear. There may be other technologies that can make people disappear."

"Shit." She stared helplessly around her. She needed to think; she was the second-in-command. If only it hadn't happened so suddenly. If only she'd seen or heard something. "We need to go back for help," she said firmly, and then glanced at Teal'c for confirmation.

His impassive face revealed nothing to her, but the set of his shoulders told her he didn't like that idea. He didn't want to leave the colonel and Daniel here any more than she did.

"Okay," she finally said. "Let's mark this place, so we can find it again." He swung down his staff weapon and fired it; the earth scorched black under the blast. "I was thinking of setting out rocks."

"That would also work." And there were plenty of rocks to use, broken chunks of what had been buildings. They built them up into a rough square, Sam hoping this was where it had happened.

"Major Carter." She looked up from where she squatted. Teal'c put out his hand and pulled her to her feet. "I do not wish to leave. I share with Daniel Jackson a bad feeling about this place. What O'Neill referred to as 'bad vibes.' I fear if we leave, we will never find them again."

Sam felt the same way; her shoulders relaxed at his admission. "Me, too," she whispered. "What should we do, Teal'c?"

"I must sit kel-no-reem. Will you stand guard?"

"Of course."

He bent over her hand in an oddly courtly gesture, then sat in the center of the square they'd created, closing his eyes. She moved away from him, so she wouldn't disturb him, and began to walk the perimeter.

She found the work soothing. Something she'd done a thousand times before, on earth and off. Keep sharp, pay attention, do your duty.

The wind picked up some, and small dust devils formed around them. The clouds grew thicker and turned the light a pale yellow, like soured milk. As she walked, she calmed, and began to piece together what had happened.

Rings, Teal'c had said, and she thought he was right. Not Goa'uld rings, but something like them had removed the colonel and Daniel from right under their noses. She'd been on point, then Teal'c, then O'Neill, who'd stopped to wait for Daniel. She'd heard nothing, felt nothing. None of the vibration the rings made, nor that eerie sound. She stared back, the way they'd come, and at the square they'd made. Teal'c was still sitting there, but his eyes were open and he was watching her closely.

"I think they were transported out," she said, and he nodded. "Maybe they walked over something, a trigger." She swallowed, and began walking back the way they'd came. The soil was parched and gritty; it was hard to see any tracks in it. "Help me, Teal'c," she finally said. "Where were we standing?"

He studied the ground for long minutes, first standing and then crouching. At last, he stood and slowly walked away from her; she trotted to catch up with him and then stayed a pace behind. No way did she want him to disappear and leave her entirely alone.

The wind picked up even more, and she found it difficult to keep her eyes open. She tugged on Teal'c's jacket so he paused, and then dug through her pack until she found her goggles. It was harder to see through them, but better than getting grit in her eyes. Teal'c slitted his own eyes and continued, this time keeping her hand in his. She found that gesture almost unbearably comforting, and was ashamed that she, a soldier and a warrior, would be so reluctant to relinquish it. Then she realized that Teal'c was just as much a soldier and warrior as she was, and if he didn't mind, she certainly wasn't going to. So she gripped his hand more firmly and stayed near him.

He was bent nearly double when he gave up. "I am sorry," he said, and she heard the pained regret in his voice. "The wind has disturbed the soil too much. I cannot see well in this light. I cannot track them further."

"That's all right," she lied, but she didn't let go of his hand. "I guess we need to report in to SGC and ask for reinforcements."

"It would be best, Major Carter."

Probably should've done that an hour ago, she told herself as they turned back toward the stargate. The wind howled at them, pushing against them as if to hinder their progress. Teal'c moved ahead of her, to block the worst of it, and she clutched at the strap on his pack. The sky was getting darker; the sun must be setting, and the air was sharp with gritty sand. She felt as if she were being scoured.

She bumped into Teal'c suddenly. "We must remain here," he shouted at her. "We will wait until the storm passes." He pulled her down behind a Volkswagen-sized piece of the building that had once stood here, and they crouched together. The wind wailed dolefully around them, sounding like frustrated spirits in the air. As it got darker, it got colder, and she huddled against Teal'c for warmth. He slid an arm over her shoulders and tucked her against his massive chest. She sighed. Un-PC as hell, but very comforting.

It is a slow, plodding evil, she remembered Daniel telling them. The voices in the air screamed, and she huddled more closely against Teal'c, who curled around her protectively. She was squatting on the ground, her elbows to her knees, so she struggled for a moment, finally managing to arrange herself more comfortably. She shivered, closed her eyes, and bent her head to rest against his chest.

He was a big man, as broad as he was tall it seemed, and offered considerable protection against the screaming wind and sand. He adjusted his arms around her as she ensconced herself more completely in the shelter of Teal'c. He was warm, his skin against hers was both soft and firm, and she felt his muscles even through the layers of shirt and vest and jacket he wore. She realized that he'd opened his jacket and was tucking her inside it. She felt cared for, cherished. Treasured.

They settled down to wait for night and the storm to pass.

* * *

Daniel clutched Jack's hand as they stepped cautiously along. He had no sense of the space they were in, whether large or small, narrow or open. They just walked, as in some Dantean circle of hell, always walking, never arriving. The air was hot and musty, with only the slight breeze in their face to suggest anything other than this place existed.

A slow, plodding evil, he remembered, and wondered if they'd succumbed to it. Maybe this was hell. Or some bizarre afterlife, and he was fated to spend it with Jack.

They walked a long time. In the utter darkness, Daniel remembered he'd been dreaming before he'd woken to find himself in this cavern. He had dreamt that a woman had been in charge of a well in the mountains above the ruined city. Every evening she had to staunch its flow with a slab at sunset and release it at sunrise. But one evening, she fell asleep by the side of the well. In his dream, he watched as the fountain overflowed, its waters rushed down the mountain side, the roar of the flood as it broke open an outlet and drowned the white city. The woman woke from the noise, but her efforts to stem the torrent were fruitless; it flowed into the plain, where man and beast were drowned in the flood while she and Daniel watched. She was filled with so much horror over the result of her neglect that she turned into stone, the white stone that lay in jagged chunks throughout the city.

"Is that a light?" Jack asked, and Daniel felt as if he were waking up from another dream. He peered past Jack, using his peripheral vision. There was a dim glow ahead of them, not bright enough to illuminate their way, but something to give them a goal. Jack put his arm around Daniel's waist and they walked side by side. Soon Daniel could see the light straight on, and then he realized they were, as he'd assumed, in some kind of cave. Cavern, really; it was enormous. Light glittered back from them from minerals imbedded in the rock, and stalactites aimed ominously toward them from thirty feet overhead. The floor was smooth, though, and he thought it had once been polished, though now silted over.

As they drew nearer, Daniel realized the walls, floor, and ceiling of the cavern itself were glowing. Jack stopped, and glanced at the badge Daniel wore. "Is it radioactive?"

Jack shook his head. "I can't tell. We need Carter. But my guess is . . ."

"Yes," Daniel agreed. They stared ahead. "Maybe there's an exit here."

Jack exhaled loudly, and they started forward again, Daniel nervously glancing down at the badge, wondering if it would give them enough warning. And warning to do what -- return to the dark?

"It's like those nightlights I had as a kid. Turned out they were radioactive," Jack said, and Daniel saw he was right. The glow was from deep within the soil and rock, almost translucent. Beautiful, in a way, but a cold light. No welcome here.

"There are carvings on the wall," he pointed out, and Jack nodded. Daniel left his side to study them in the odd light. Not the same language as on the obelisk, not at all. The lettering was unknown to him, although similar to kanji. He touched the wall; it was cool. The light glowing from within offered no heat. "I don't know," he muttered, and backed into Jack. "Sorry."

"We gotta get out of here."

"Yeah." He looked around them. "Yeah, you're right." But I don't see anything that will help us, he thought, glancing at Jack.

"Wonder if this is why our flashlights don't work."

Daniel shrugged. That was Sam's area of expertise. He turned back to the walls, slowly walking away from Jack, away from the direction they'd come from. The lettering covered the entire wall, from what he could tell, right up to the ceiling and maybe across it as well. But it might as well be purely ornamental from all he could decipher of it.

He kept walking and discovered they were in a cul-de-sac. Jack already stood at the far end, hands in pockets, chewing his lower lip. He glanced up as Daniel stood next to him. "If we're gonna get outta here, we're gonna have to get out the same way we got in," he said, and Daniel agreed. "Unless you can make sense of this," and he gestured to the glowing room, "let's go back."

Daniel turned in a slow circle, staring upwards. How had they magically appeared down here? How long had they been here? Was it some kind of defensive mechanism that dropped them down? Or a malfunctioning transporter system?

He looked at Jack. His face appeared deeply lined in the unhealthy glow of the walls, and his beard glinted grey and silver. "Let's go back," he agreed, and even though they could now see each other and the silted floor in front of them, Jack took his hand and they began to retrace their steps.

* * *

They left the weird light behind and soon were pacing in the dark again, Jack's step slow and uncertain, Daniel pressing closely to him. "I hate this," he whispered, obviously surprising Daniel with the confession. Daniel dropped Jack's hand to put an arm around his waist and Jack thought again of how much pleasure and relief he'd found over the years in Daniel's company. "Wish we had some cognac," he whispered, and felt Daniel nod, his cheek brushing against Jack's shoulder.

"Here," Daniel said after a long while, and slowed them to a halt. "I think it's here."

What? Jack wanted to ask, but remained silent, eyes wide open as he tried to see in the dark. It was so quiet in their dark, moist womb that he could hear his heart and the blood rushing in his ears; could hear Daniel's breathing, and the rumble of his stomach.

Daniel tugged him down, and he awkwardly seated himself, bumping into Daniel's knees and elbows. Even though it was warm, they still clung to one another; Jack was embarrassed but too freaked by the darkness to do more than note how relieved he was that Daniel was with him.

After long minutes, Jack thought he could see something. A dim glow, like bioluminescence in the ocean on a dark summer's night. A very pale jade green. "Do you see it?" Daniel whispered, his breath in Jack's ear, and Jack nodded silently. Daniel slid his arms around Jack, pulling him even closer, and Jack went, resting his head on Daniel's shoulder.

Daniel had known, he thought. A slow, plodding evil. Daniel had known better than to come here, yet he'd followed Jack, faithfully followed him *knowing* the inevitable danger. Sam's statistical calculations weren't needed by Jack; Daniel had been one hundred percent sure, and he'd been one hundred percent correct. Yet still he followed.

Jack closed his eyes. Daniel would keep watch. Daniel would watch over him.

He slept.

In his dream, he stood in brilliant sunshine, wearing a light tee shirt and shorts, holding Daniel's hand. They were in a long snaking line -- to a movie? But they were on the beach; Jack could feel the sand between his toes and looked down to see his flip-flops were half buried in warm creamy sand. The line moved and Daniel tugged him forward.

"Professor Jackson!" someone called excitedly, and Jack looked up from his feet to see a youngish man trotting toward them, smiling hugely at Daniel. "Oh my god, Professor Jackson, I can't believe it. It's been nearly ten years -- I bet you don't even remember me."

Daniel studied him from behind his sunglasses. Jack noticed his hair was long again, and bleached blond by the sun they stood in. "Adam Hill," he finally said, and Adam beamed at him. They shook hands. "How are you?"

"Fine, I'm fine. I can't believe you're here. This is so cool! Is this your dad? Mister Jackson, your son so inspired me. I became an anthropologist because of him."

Jack felt himself blush and Daniel's grip tightened on his. "An anthropologist?" he murmured, and Daniel smiled.

"What are you doing these days?" he asked Adam.

"I'm working for the National Museum of Ireland," he replied, and Jack suddenly realized they were LA, in Santa Monica. He recognized this place. Not far from UCLA, where Daniel had studied as an undergraduate. But how did he know that? Why were they in LA if Adam worked in Dublin? Adam was pointing behind him to a pale sullen man whose handsome face was studded with gold along his ears, eyebrows, and nose. "That's Skip. Hey, Skipper!" he bellowed suddenly, and waved. "He's my boyfriend. We're supposed to be meeting some friends, but I had to say hello when I saw you. I knew it was you, Professor Jackson."

"It's good to see you again, Adam," Daniel said kindly.

"Yeah, and nice to meet you, Mister Jackson." Adam smiled beatifically and jogged to Skip, turning to wave before they disappeared in the crowd.

"So, Dad," Daniel teased him, and Jack rolled his eyes.

"I'm not that much older than you," he protested, but the line started to move again and he had to scuff the sand out of his sandals.

The movie seemed to have started; he could hear the music even out here in the line, and it was terrible, a screeching metallic sound, and then the lights flared and Jack couldn't see at all, and then Daniel was shaking him awake. "Wake up, Jack; come on. Something's happening."

He opened his eyes, shocked to find himself in his heavy BDUs, being gently shaken by Daniel. "What? What?" he mumbled, trying to orient himself. There was another flash of light, and the noise ceased as suddenly as it had started, and Teal'c and Sam fell almost directly on top of them.

They were both unconscious, and covered in sand that sifted off them as Jack and Daniel tried to untangle their limbs and straighten them. "Did you see?" Daniel asked, and Jack bit back his unkind words.

"Sorry," he finally admitted. "I fell asleep."

"Oh, Jack." He felt more than saw Daniel look at him. "I'm sorry. You must be exhausted. Lie down, lie down. I'll keep watch."

But Daniel had been alone too much already. "I'm fine," he assured him, and it was almost true. The team was together again, and they knew there was some mechanism dropping them from the surface. They just needed to figure out how to reverse it, and surely SG-1 could do that. Once they all woke up.

At last Teal'c began to revive, coughing hoarsely. "Major Carter?" he rasped.

"She's right here," Daniel told him patting him lightly.

"What happened?" Jack asked him.

He heard Teal'c sigh heavily, and then cough even more deeply. "Sand storm," he said at last, and Jack handed him his water bottle. "We lost you. O'Neill," he said suddenly, sounding much more like himself. "Where were you? What happened to you and Daniel Jackson?"

"We're not sure," Daniel answered for him. "We just got dumped in here."

"We found something," Teal'c said, as if just remembering it, and Jack heard him sit up. "Where is Major Carter?"

"Right here," Daniel said again, there was silence. In the faint light, Jack saw Teal'c's indistinct outline bend over what had to be Carter. He thought he saw Teal'c stroke her face.

"What did you find?" Jack finally asked him.

Teal'c coughed again. "Like rings," he said. "Not Goa'uld technology." He choked and began coughing again, Daniel patting his back anxiously.

"Don't talk," Daniel told him. "Just rest." He helped Teal'c lie down next to Carter, and then scooted back to Jack, who put his hand on Daniel's shoulder. "They just need to rest," Daniel said, and Jack knew he was reassuring himself.

"Yeah."

The two men sat watch over their friends, Jack grateful for the little sleep he'd had, however dream filled.

Teal'c stirred first, waking from the odd meditative state that seemed to replace sleep for him. He'd stopped coughing and wheezing, but still moved sluggishly. Jack's eyes had accustomed to the dim glow and he watched as Teal'c checked Carter's breathing and heart rate before turning to face them.

"We need to reactivate the mechanism that deposited us here," he said, and Jack resisted the impulse to say, "Ya think?"

"How?" Daniel asked, more pragmatically.

"There will be machinery here, a trigger. We must locate it." Teal'c very slowly climbed to his feet, and his continued torpidity worried Jack.

"The flashlights don't work," Daniel told him, rising to stand next to Teal'c. Jack noticed with a shiver of irritation that Daniel put his hand on Teal'c's massive shoulder. "But the matches do."

"Jesus, Daniel," he said gruffly, "What good will matches do?" No one responded to his question. Daniel and Teal'c stood staring upwards at nothing; Carter lay deep in sleep or unconsciousness, he didn't know which. He felt groggy and irritable, and rubbed his face, sighing heavily. "What the fuck is this place, anyway?" But there was still no answer.

After an eternity, Teal'c raised one hand and pointed; Daniel murmured, "I see it. Just a little light."

* * *

Sam stood quietly, wondering if the white cow watching her was dangerous, or if cows just liked looking at people. It wasn't a very big cow, but she was a city girl and not accustomed to having cows observe her. Particularly cows with a small set of sharp-looking horns. Sam hadn't realized cows had horns; she thought they were reserved for bulls. Although this creature staring at her didn't seem to carry the accoutrements of a bull.

The cow tossed its horn-tipped head and turned, trotting away from her. Sam realized that cows probably meant humans were around, and since she was tired of standing in a cold and windy copse of half-naked trees, their leaves rattling ominously, she began to pursue the cow. She soon realized that it and she were following a narrow winding path, boggy in spots, rising up occasionally, but mostly heading downhill. She hurried on, pulling her SGC jacket closer around her and wondering where her pack had gotten to.

Suddenly she slid and fell on her butt, the ground cold and damp beneath her. "Yuck," she said, and the cow stopped to watch, sniffing the sparse grass. "You could help me up," she told it crossly as she climbed to her feet. She grabbed a handful of the grass to try to rub the mud off her trousers, but only succeeded in smearing it further. Making a disgusted sound, she turned and said, "Well, go on. Just take it a little slower, okay?"

The cow tossed its head again and picked its way along the narrow path. Sam followed, wiping her hands on her thighs and wishing again for her pack. What a day this had been. She couldn't even remember how she'd gotten here, or where the rest of her team was. In fact, the more she tried to remember this day, the less she could. Her head ached, and the ibuprofen was in her missing pack, along with another pair of trousers and a sweater she sure could use.

She heard a rushing noise and paused, letting the cow get a bit ahead of her, trying to hear better. When she went on, around and over the next hill, she saw the cow drinking from an icy-looking stream that roared over white rocks streaked with mossy green. The path continued on the other side of the water.

She cautiously approached the cow, who looked up at her with the same blank expression. "Good cow," she said, holding out her hands in an effort to look harmless. She knelt upstream and tasted the water; it was snow-melt, she thought, but she was so thirsty she drank greedily. When she looked up again, she realized that further upstream was a small island, dense with fir trees, and that at the edge nearest her stood a woman, dressed in a rough-woven robe with a cloak wrapped around her.

She was a bit older than Sam, nearing middle aged, but still youthful. Kneeling by the water, her face still wet and her hands dripping, Sam stared silently at her. She wished Daniel were here; he always knew what to say.

At last she cleared her throat, but the other woman held up her hand, palm outwards, as if to silence Sam. "Moch maduinn Bhride thig an nimhir as as toll cha bhoin mise ris an nimhir cha bhoin an nimhir rium," she said.

Sam continued to stare at her. The woman sighed and said:

"Early on Bride's morn

The Serpent shall come from the hollow

I will not molest the serpent

Nor will the serpent molest me."

"Serpent?" Sam said faintly, and glanced around. "Here? The Goa'uld are here?"

The woman shook her head and smiled at Sam, rather condescendingly, she thought. Then she made the sign of the cross. Sam sat back on her heels, shocked; her movement startled the white cow, who danced away, crashing into the bushes. When she looked back at the island, the woman was gone.

"Sam," someone was saying urgently. "Sam, we need you to wake up."

She was lying in Teal'c's arms, she realized, in a warm dark place. "What? Where?"

"It's me, Daniel," and she realized he was leaning over her, brushing her curls from her forehead. "You've been out a long time. Can you sit up?"

She struggled a bit, then relaxed and let Teal'c lift her to a sitting position. She leaned back against him, remembering the sand storm and how he'd protected her. "What happened?" she asked, twisting her head back to look up into his face.

"There was a trigger," he rumbled, and she giggled, wildly inappropriately she knew, but the vibration of his voice tickled her back. "Some mechanism deposited us here, with O'Neill and Daniel Jackson."

"I remember," she said, but not entirely truthfully. Wasn't there a white cow? And a woman in white? Her head still hurt.

"Carter, snap out of it," Colonel O'Neill said, a little sharply.

"Yes, sir." She sat up straighter, reluctantly leaving Teal'c's comfort. "I'm awake, sir."

"Sam, we need your help. We think there's a, another trigger down here, something that will get us back to the surface. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Daniel." He cupped her face for a few seconds, and she sighed. "Thank you," she murmured, and was sad when he took his hand away. Teal'c slid his hand into hers, though, and since it was dark and the colonel couldn't see, she twined her fingers between his.

"Look up, Sam," Daniel urged her, and she leaned back, staring above them. "Maybe use your peripheral vision."

After long minutes had passed, she saw a light glowing somewhere above them. "What is it?" she whispered.

"We were hoping you could tell us," O'Neill said, sounding more kindly. She remembered the woman and her words.

"The serpent shall come from the hollow," she said.

"Uh, Carter?"

"Sam?"

"There is no sign of the Goa'uld, Major Carter."

She sighed. "Look." She turned her head slightly, using her peripheral vision as Daniel had suggested. Almost directly under the light was a hollowed out place in the dusty polished stone on which they sat. Teal'c gently moved her aside and peered into it.

"Matches, Jack?" All four crowded around the depression while Jack lit a match. In the sudden flare, she saw an abstract squiggle -- a snake. Without hesitation, she reached down and grasped the snake firmly. "I will not molest the serpent," she promised it, and twisted it.

There was a grinding noise, as if sand had gotten into gears, and then a heavy white light fell on them, blinding her. "Shit," she heard the colonel mutter, and felt Teal'c pull her back. She went to him willingly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her head in his chest, shutting out the light. "O'Neill," he said. "Daniel Jackson." The floor seemed to rise beneath her, or she floated upward, she couldn't tell, but her stomach and ears told her she was moving, and then she was lying on top of Teal'c, gasping.

When she opened her eyes, they were behind the stargate. She could see the ruined city they'd been exploring directly through it, as if through a silver ring. While she watched, the remains of the city began to crumple like white paper and fell, dust spiraling up. Only then did the noise of the earthquake or bomb or whatever reach her, rattling her teeth and slicing through her eardrums. Teal'c seized her even more firmly and she shut her eyes again, like a child, hoping that whatever bad thing was happening would pass them by if she just didn't look at it.

The stargate itself began to ring, something she didn't know was possible: a clear bell tone reverberating through the sour atmosphere of this evil place, and she opened her eyes to see the air shimmering before her, impossibly, and all the stargate's chevrons locking and flashing simultaneously, while the sonority seemed to resonate in her bones and teeth, louder and louder, like the end of Abbey Road, on and up and out and on and up and out and on and on and on.

She was sweating when the stargate ceased to ring out, sweating and exhausted. She opened her eyes and saw that Teal'c looked sick, a greenish tinge to his normally golden-brown skin. Beside her, Daniel held Jack tightly, Jack's head in Daniel's lap. Daniel looked at her; he was sweating, too, his blue eyes wide, and she realized his glasses were missing. She couldn't hear a thing.

Slowly they roused themselves, standing. Jack vomited, kneeling suddenly beside Daniel, who rested a hand on the back of his neck and then handed him a water bottle when he was through. Sam couldn't hear anything: not Jack's puking, not her own voice, not even her heartbeat. The silence was as complete as outer space.

To her enormous relief, the DHD still worked, and the chevrons lit up in proper sequence. She couldn't hear the wormhole engage but felt near to tears when she saw the event horizon shimmer seductively before them. Daniel punched in the GDO and they staggered through, leaving their equipment behind for someone else to worry about.

In the SGC gateroom, she stood bewildered by the activity and continued to cling to Teal'c, no matter how unprofessional it might look. He hung onto her tightly, as did Daniel, who was also hanging onto Jack. The four of them were filthy and stank of sweat and dirt and the ugly atmosphere of that place.

She watched Daniel's mouth move as he tried to explain what had happened; he pointed to his ears and shook his head, so she knew he was deaf, too. She was terrified. What if this was permanent? She'd never hear her father's voice again. Never hear a lover's heartbeat beneath her ear as she rested on his chest. Never a baby's cry. She began to shudder in her fear. "Where's Janet?" she tried to say, but was so terrified by her inability to hear her own words that she twisted to put her face into Teal'c's chest again.

Gentle hands slowly turned her back, and she saw Janet before her. "Come with me," she lip-read and, holding Teal'c's and Daniel's hands, she followed Janet down the ramp and into the long hallways.

* * *

Daniel didn't like being deaf; he was sure of that. He assumed it was temporary, due to their propinquity to the massive explosion that had destroyed what little was left of the city on that awful planet. A slow, plodding evil indeed; it seemed pretty sudden to him. He had no idea what had happened, but thought Sam had triggered it by twisting that handle she'd seemed to know was there. What had she said? She wouldn't molest the snake? That sounded familiar; he needed to research it, ask her. Later, though.

In the meantime, he sat near Jack, who was furious. His mouth worked, his face twisted, and Daniel knew Jack was shouting even though he couldn't hear a thing. Apparently shouting quite loudly; Janet had her hands over her ears as she shouted back at him. They were practically spitting at each other. Well, Daniel had often thought they were two peas in a pod, both terrifically protective of their people, and both were no doubt frightened by this occurrence.

He put out his hand and gently stroked Jack's back, his shirt stained with sweat and dust. Jack jerked irritably away, then twisted back. When he saw it was Daniel, he stopped shouting. Daniel risked touching him again and lightly patted his back, near the right shoulder blade, and Jack sighed. Daniel felt Jack's lungs inflate, the muscles in his back flex and relax, under Daniel's petting hand. Like a dog, Daniel thought, and smiled to himself as he continued to pat Jack. After almost a minute, Jack sat closer to Daniel and nodded, trying to convey something.

On the bed across from them, Sam and Teal'c sat, also touching each other. It was as though, Daniel thought, they were compensating for their loss of hearing by increasing their frequency of touch. Trading one sense for another. Since he couldn't hear Jack's sarcastic, caustic comments, he wanted to feel his warm, living body beneath his hands, to know for certain that he was still here, still with Daniel. And, surprising Daniel, Jack seemed to need it, too, and permitted himself to be petted, right in front of Janet and the nurses.

A nurse arrived bearing pads of paper and pens, and Janet handed them out. All four teammates began to write furiously, including Daniel, and he would bet they were all writing the same questions.

Before he finished, though, Janet had stuck her own note in front of his face. "Physical. Hearing test. Write your report for G. Hammond." He nodded, and went back to writing while she had the other three read the note. She took Jack first, holding his hand as Daniel had done; apparently she'd noticed their sudden need to be touched as well. After a moment, Daniel hopped off his bed and sat next to Sam, letting his leg bump hers comfortingly. She leaned against him as she wrote.

His report was more detailed than a quickly written one should have been, and he had to abbreviate the ending when General Hammond appeared before him, Teal'c's and Sam's already in his hand. He saw that the general was speaking to him, but was still deaf as a post and could only shake his head in frustration. General Hammond smiled kindly at him, and even patted his shoulder.

Soon it was his turn for the usual and exhaustive medical exam, with the addition of a hearing test, although he couldn't make out a single tone. Nothing, not even a white noise or buzz or heart beat. He checked his chronometer; they'd been back nearly three hours by the time he was cleared to shower and change, and still he could hear nothing.

He'd had a friend who was deaf, when he was an undergraduate. A pretty young woman with long blonde hair. She'd read lips very well, but had to continually tap people on their shoulders so they'd face her when they'd talk. He remembered her speaking voice, too -- a bit too loud, and uninflected. He could be deaf and a linguist, he knew that, but he also knew that he couldn't be deaf and a member of SG-1.

For a moment, he felt panicky, as if he couldn't breathe. He glanced around him; Sam was sitting on a hospital bed staring intently at him. Teal'c and Jack were nowhere in sight. He found paper and wrote: Where Jack and Teal'c?

She wrote: Showers.

You okay?

No. You?

No.

They stared at each other, and then he hugged her. His friend, his teammate, his big sister. Shower, he wrote, and she nodded, then grabbed the cuff of his jacket, pulling his hand with the pad back, and wrote: Love you.

Love you, he wrote back, and she kissed his cheek. Her eyes were filled with tears. Janet stepped into his vision, startling him, but she put her arms around Sam, so he left them. He felt a bit teary-eyed himself.

It was eerie to walk through the normally echoing halls of the SGC and hear nothing. Not the air conditioning, not the whine of distant machinery, not the voices of the men and women stationed so deep within the earth, nor the occasional music drifting out of various offices. He felt claustrophobic and frightened.

The showers were even worse, in a way, because he so clearly remembered how Jack's voice echoed off the tile while he badly sang bad songs; how his boots resounded when he kicked them off his feet; how the lockers slammed shut. Again, there was nothing.

He was starting to freak out.

He took his shower, avoiding Jack's eyes. Teal'c was dressing already, and Daniel knew he'd be off to sit kel-no-reem for days. Maybe his symbiote could cure his deafness. It could do almost anything, it seemed.

They were ordered to stay on base, of course. He wanted to be alone, but Jack had clearly made up his mind that *he* didn't want to be alone, or maybe didn't want Daniel to be alone, so he had an escort from the showers to the commissary, and then to the men's room, and then to his office, where he sat down to write his official report. Jack sat across from him, on the saggy sofa that Daniel had inherited with the office, and wrote his report in longhand. They drank Daniel's coffee until past midnight, when Daniel finally looked up from his computer monitor to find Jack asleep, head lolled back on the sprung cushions, mouth open. He was no doubt snoring, although Daniel couldn't hear him. So. One benefit.

Daniel stood before Jack and gently nudged him with his knee, until he jerked awake, looking around dazedly. He pointed to his ear, but Daniel shook his head, and held up a note: VIP suite. Jack took a deep breath, stretched, and stood waiting while Daniel locked up his office and they walked together to the suite of rooms.

When they reached the nearest one, Daniel pointed to the door and then to Jack, who shook his head and pointed first at Daniel and then himself. Together? Daniel pointed his finger back and forth between them, and Jack nodded his head vigorously. Daniel stared at him, and then nodded. What the hell. He didn't really want to be alone. They'd slept cuddled together in their tent on ice worlds and in caves -- fuck the SGC if they had their cameras on tonight.

And it did feel good, he thought, when he finally fell into bed with Jack, to have his warm body near him, reminding him that he wasn't alone in this most isolated environment. He wasn't in some sensory deprivation chamber; he was with Jack, who hogged the bed and was too warm. He wasn't alone, no matter how it felt.

* * *

Jack dreamed. Again he stood in the sun, holding Daniel's hand. This time, a handsome man, Jack's height and color, with the same long upper lip, approached them. "Jonathan," he said sternly. Jack tried to drop Daniel's hand, but he held on tightly and stepped nearer to Jack, as if to protect him.

"Yeah?"

"I am Domnall, the Ua Neill."

The Ua Neill? Jack knew his family history well enough to know who this was: the grandson of Niall Black Knee, the first O'Neill, and a king of Ireland.

"Uh, hi."

Domnall stared at him. "The evil remains, Jonathan. The evil remains. All are fallen, no one lives, but the evil remains, seeking means to capture other souls, sweet in their innocence. Fear this place. Protect your lover and flee."

Giving him a meaningful look, Domnall turned and melted into the crowded beach. "Jack?" Daniel called, and he turned to look at him, his hair shining in the brilliant sunlight, his face so dear to Jack. "Jack? Wake up, Jack."

He opened his eyes to find Daniel leaning over him. They were in bed together, and -- "What did you say?"

Daniel smiled brilliantly at him. "You can hear me."

"Yes!" Jack felt instantly awake, and thrilled. He wanted to dance, to run through the forest, to chase a dun cow, whatever the fuck that meant. "Let's get up. Let's find Carter and Teal'c. Let's get *out* of here, Danny." Daniel smiled wonderfully at him, and Jack felt melted in the warmth of that smile. "Say something, Daniel," he whispered.

"For cryin' out loud," he said, and they both laughed.

"Yeah, sure, you betcha," he responded, and they climbed out of bed.

They caused a ruckus in the infirmary, where Carter was spending the night. Teal'c arrived shortly after they did, and Jack insisted the doctor on call sign them out. He knew his team wanted out of the mountain as much as he did; they'd spent too much time underground recently and needed to see the stars above them.

The veil of the night, the dew on their faces, the stars glittering nearer than anyone else knew, was balm to Jack when they finally stepped free of Cheyenne Mountain.

He had never been happier to hear Carter babbling on, speculating about the mechanism that dropped them underground, popped them out at the stargate, and then had destroyed the remains of the city. There was no way she'd ever learn what had happened, but still she sought an answer, and he respected her for that.

Daniel and he sat squashed into the same side of a booth, opposite Carter and Teal'c, Teal'c with his knit cap pulled low so he looked like a thug and not an alien, in a coffee house near Daniel's apartment. They drank mug after mug of expensive coffee, while Teal'c drank tea, talking over each other, making as much noise as they could.

"I had a dream," Carter said, and Jack put down his coffee. Daniel and Teal'c stopped their overlapping conversation and turned to her, too. When she didn't speak again, Jack made a go-on motion with his hand. "There was this cow. A white cow. I followed her and found this woman."

"Bridget?" Daniel asked, and Jack felt his eyes widen with recognition.

"I don't know," Carter said, clearly missing the significance. "Just a woman on an island. She said a poem in a language I didn't understand. Something about snakes. I was half dreaming when you woke me, so I just looked for the snake. That's how I knew to turn that thing."

"Early on Bride's morn

 

The Serpent shall come from the hollow

 

I will not molest the serpent

 

Nor will the serpent molest me," Daniel said, and Carter nodded.

"That's it. How do you know that?"

"Saint Bridget. She always traveled with a white cow, and was associated with serpents. She was the goddess of poets, and healers, and smiths."

"Why did Saint Bridget appear to me?"

When no one spoke, Jack cleared his throat. "I saw Domnall, the Ua Neill. One of the earliest kings of Ireland." Now he was the center of attention, a position Jack normally craved, but not at the moment. "Told me to leave that place, that planet. Said it was evil."

"The obelisk. Its writing was a form of the Gaelic," Daniel remembered, staring into his coffee. "The people who found the place before we did -- they must've been Celts. They were warning us."

"Holograms?"

"Dreams."

Carter frowned, and Jack knew she wanted to protest, but what could she say? They'd been visited in their dreams, even on earth in the SGC.

"How are we going to explain this to General Hammond?" Daniel murmured, and sipped his coffee.

"Dreams can teach," Teal'c reminded him, and he blushed.

"Yeah."

"I'll tell him. There's nothing left, anyway. We saw it all blow up. Right?" Jack looked around at the faces of his teammates. They nodded. He shrugged. "So we leave the stuff behind. How much does a toilet seat cost the Air Force anyway? They can afford to lose a FRED and a MALP."

"And a UAV," Carter pointed out, but he shrugged again. Fuck it. No way was he or anyone else he cared about going back to that place. It was evil. Domnall was right.

He suddenly remembered what else Domnall had said. Protect your lover. He'd been holding Daniel's hand in the dream. He peeked at Daniel from the corner of his eyes; he was leaning against the wall, eyes half closed even as he breathed in the steam from his coffee. They really did need to get some sleep.

Daniel as his lover. He smiled to himself, and looked away, not wanting to let Daniel catch him smiling fatuously at him, just in time to see Carter slip her hand into Teal'c's as they dropped their linked hands below the table. He wondered what else Bridget had told her. He wondered if Daniel and Teal'c had dreamed. But neither of them volunteered anything.

"We should go," he said at last, and waved the server over for the check. Daniel was more than half asleep, and he had no idea what Carter and Teal'c were up to, nor did he want to.

He bullied them out into the icy air of early morning and into his frosted truck. Daniel lived closest, so he dropped him first. "I'm walking you upstairs," he told a disbelieving and protesting Daniel, and left Carter and Teal'c in the back seat, the truck's heater running, while he followed Daniel up in the elevator.

"I'm perfectly capable of getting home by myself," he told Jack irritably, but Jack only smiled.

Once outside Daniel's door, he took the keys and opened it for him, pressing them back into Daniel's hand. "Get some rest. We have tomorrow off. Call me."

Daniel studied him curiously, and Jack thought again of Domnall's words. Embarrassed, a little frightened, but emboldened by the weird shit that had happened, he hugged Daniel goodnight, and felt with relief and pleasure his arms come around Jack, embracing him firmly.

Could he be Daniel's lover? He pulled away slowly, to look into Daniel's blushing face, and thought yes. Yes, he could. He'd like that.

"Good night," he whispered, and for one moment considered kissing him. Then he smiled and stepped away, feeling Daniel's eyes on him all the way to elevator. When he turned around, Daniel was still at the door, a small and secret smile on his face, one that no doubt matched the smile on his own face.

Oh, yeah.

He drove directly to Carter's home, out in the suburbs, very unlike where he thought a woman like Carter would live, but he supposed it had been her family's home. There was an awkward moment, and then he took pity on his teammates. "You gonna stay here, Teal'c, or come home with me? Surely you don't wanna go back to the base after everything that's happened."

"Oh, Teal'c. I have plenty of room. Stay here," Carter said quickly, and Teal'c nodded.

"Good night, O'Neill."

"Night, Teal'c. Night, Carter."

"Good night, sir."

Night, John-Boy, he said to himself when he pulled away, looking in his rearview mirror at the two walking up the long drive to Carter's front door.

* * *

That night, Jack dreamed that he sat in his kitchen reading the newspaper and drinking cognac. Daniel let himself in and walked into the kitchen, slinging his jacket over the back of the chair. He grinned at Jack. "I'm home," he said.

That night, Daniel dreamed that he walked to Jack's house, an impossible distance in reality, but an easy stroll in his dream. He let himself in and walked into the kitchen where Jack sat reading the newspaper, then slung his jacket over the back of the chair. He grinned at Jack. "I'm home," he said.

That night, Sam dreamed that she sat in her kitchen reading a journal and drinking peach iced tea. Teal'c let himself in and walked into the kitchen, carefully arranging his jacket over the back of the chair. He nodded at her. "I am home," he said.

That night, Teal'c sat kel-no-reem in Samantha's guest room, lost in the dreams of his symbiote. He remembered holding Samantha to his breast during the terrible sand storm, and how she had turned to him in her fear and exhaustion. He saw, as in a foretelling, her walk into his quarters in Cheyenne Mountain and sling her jacket over the back of the only chair he kept in his rooms, for his guests. She knelt next to him, careful of the candles, and smiled at him. "I'm home," she said.


	2. Abhaile

Daniel stared at the photographs spread over his work table, their glossy surfaces smudged with his fingerprints. With J. J. Ruadh's help, he'd copied out the symbols as best as they could be made out, and then translated them. She'd started the task when SG-1 had been on P3X-468, and what she'd found had been significant enough to keep them both working on it despite Daniel's busy schedule and frequent off-world missions.

Now the translation was as complete as they could make it. He just needed to understand it. Staring at the photographs of the obelisk that had existed on P3X-468 before SG-1 had inadvertently destroyed it and much else of the abandoned city near the stargate wouldn't help anymore, but Daniel's attention was continually drawn back to them.

The characters carved into the obelisk were ornamented with a variety of native Irish devices, such as interlace and spirals. Delicately-carved, curled leaves, complete with their veins, seemed to indicate the start of passages. The entire obelisk, from Daniel's vantage point at its base, had appeared to be covered in writing, but he'd only been able to photograph the bottom third. SG-1 had been planning to return, but there was no point now. Everything that had been there was gone, crushed by a mighty earthquake or explosion into powdered dust.

If Daniel and J. J. were correct, he knew where the people who had raised the obelisk had come from. Their language was closely related to an earth-based one, a Goidelic form of the Gaelic, but that could mean either Celts had been taken from earth at one time, or that the people who had raised the obelisk had also left people on earth who became the Celts. Daniel wanted to know more about them.

Amid all the carefully-carved warnings on the obelisk, Daniel had discovered what were clearly glyphs -- the glyphs he'd first seen when invited to participate in the stargate project all those years ago. They stood out in striking contrast to the warning, inserted illogically, obliterating several words, right in the middle of a passage lamenting the loss of the people who'd preceded the obelisk-makers. Daniel suspected that someone else had carved the glyphs, and he wondered why.

So he stared at the photos, as if they could tell him something more, something else, while he drafted his proposal to visit this world.

J. J. had been her usual disapproving self, murmuring about work she'd neglected to help Daniel, and about Daniel's too-frequent absences. He was department head, after all, and should be here, at the SGC, holding departmental meetings and sending out memos. Daniel realized he'd been working with Jack O'Neill far too long when he caught himself rolling his eyes behind J. J.'s back, but the thought of meetings and memos instead of traveling off-world was unbearable.

So J. J. wandered off, still mumbling to herself, and left Daniel staring at the photos. He might've stared all night, if Jack hadn't appeared next to him, scaring two years of life from him. "Dinner?"

"Uh, not now, Jack," Daniel told him once he'd climbed down from the ceiling, returning his attention to his work.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jack scolded, and took Daniel by the elbows, turning him around. "Dinner. With me. Off base." He wiggled his eyebrows, and Daniel suddenly felt hot and flushed as he remembered Jack walking him to his door shortly after they'd returned from P3X-468, and how he'd dreamed about Jack that night.

"Uh," he said, embarrassed, and Jack dropped his hands, blushing as well. "Yeah," he finally agreed. "Off base sounds good."

He silently followed Jack, flipping off the lights and locking his office door, and discovered, to his secret pleasure and slight embarrassment, that no one else seemed to be invited. Once they'd managed their way through security and to the surface, they agreed to meet at Oliver's, a quiet family-run restaurant not far from Daniel's apartment. All the way over, Daniel wondered if he should read anything into Jack's suggestion of Oliver's, the fact that neither Sam nor Teal'c were along, and why Jack had blushed earlier. By the time he parked, he was annoyed with himself and, irrationally, even a bit annoyed with Jack.

They were seated promptly, and to his pleasure, Jack ordered them both cognacs, and expensive ones, so he had that small joy while he studied the menu and covertly watched Jack study his. "Thank you," he said at last, and Jack looked up, puzzled. "For inviting me. For the cognac." He shrugged. "For everything."

Jack colored slightly and, after a few seconds, said, "You're welcome. Thanks for coming." They stared at each other, and Daniel remembered his dream of coming home to Jack. This is nuts, he thought, and dropped his eyes to the menu, unable to read it. He'd never felt such tension with Jack -- not anger or frustration, he was used to that. Something else, something lighter. Something that filled him with expectations he couldn't articulate, and desires he refused to identify.

He glanced up through his eyelashes at Jack, who was pink again -- third time that evening -- but was looking intently at Daniel. He felt himself smile absurdly, and forced himself to meet Jack's eyes, to find him smiling, too. "Hey," Jack said softly, and Daniel dropped his menu and rested his hands on the table.

"Hey," he said, and knew then that he wasn't imagining this. That whatever was happening, Jack was experiencing it, too. The smile on his face grew larger. He was about to say something -- anything, he didn't know what -- when their waiter approached, and he ordered blindly, uncaring. But the moment passed, and the silence grew awkward, so he began to talk about how annoying J. J. was despite her brilliance, and Jack of course had to compare her to him, and then their food arrived, and that was pretty much that.

He'd nearly forgotten the earlier tension between them by the time they'd finished dinner. "Listen, Jack," he said earnestly, shoving his plate away to lean on the table and stare intently at Jack. "I found something -- something that might be important. Another gate address."

As he'd known would happen, Jack looked up, his intelligent face sharp with interest. Daniel noticed that Jack had lost weight, and that his hair was even greyer. For a moment, a powerful emotion clutched at his heart and he felt a kind of panic at some impending loss. But he pushed on and said, "Remember P3X-468? As if we could forget. Well, I think -- I'm pretty sure I know where the people came from who made that obelisk."

After a slight hesitation, Jack said, "You have their gate address?" Daniel nodded. "And you want us to go?"

"Well, at least send a probe through."

Jack looked thoughtful, giving time for Daniel to study him further. Jack *was* older, and he'd been through so much. Daniel knew he also looked older than he did when he and Jack first met; no one could survive what they'd experienced and not age prematurely. It wasn't possible. Sam, too, and Hammond, and even Teal'c, despite his symbiote's efforts, wore the physical effect of their efforts on his face and body.

This was his life, Daniel thought. To work closely among people he loved and watch them age and be injured and, one day, die. He swallowed firmly and rubbed his forehead. "You okay, Daniel?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. What do you think, Jack? Any chance?"

"Yeah, of course. That's what we do. Give the information to Sam and we'll see what happens."

That was all Daniel wanted. He smiled brilliantly at his friend, and took a sip of water.

Jack insisted on paying the bill, although he graciously permitted Daniel to pay the tip, so with their usual arguments they stepped out into the chilly evening. Each word hung whitely in the air between them as they retraced their steps to their cars. Daniel crossed his arms against the cold, and Jack stepped nearer to him, bumping his shoulder. "Good work, Daniel," he said softly, and Daniel felt that fatuous smile again. He was incapable of resisting Jack like this, nor did he want to.

"Thanks, Jack. For dinner, and for the chance to learn more about this culture."

"It's what we do," he said again, and nodded to himself. Daniel thought about all the political machinations and rhetoric they'd struggled through and knew Jack was being a bit ingenuous: gate-travel was what they were supposed to do, but so often they were caught up in bureaucratic bullshit, worse even than his experience in academia. Still, he was right; they should be doing this. And they would.

"Good night," Daniel told him, and suddenly flashed back to P3X-468, and to Jack holding his hand, comforting him in the darkness. This was just another dark night on another unraveling world, he thought, and impulsively hugged Jack, who moved happily into his embrace as if he, too, felt the isolation of the universe around them.

They embraced tightly, body to body, their faces pressed against each other's, and Daniel didn't want to let go. He didn't want to go home alone, to an empty apartment and an empty life. He didn't want to climb into his frost-covered car and leave Jack here.

But how could he not? What right did he have to ask anyone, least of all Jack, for the comfort he so longed for? He didn't. And regardless of what might have happened earlier in the restaurant, he wouldn't. At last, he reluctantly released Jack, patting his shoulder foolishly as he murmured "good night" again, and climbed into his car.

As he always did, Jack waited until his car's engine turned over and he'd slid it into gear. He raised his hand and Jack raised his; for an instant more they stared at each other, and then Daniel drove into the night, leaving Jack alone.

* * *

Jack watched Daniel's car pull away, red taillights disappearing around a corner. He'd hated to say goodnight, but couldn't come up with a reason to delay Daniel any longer. Sighing, he climbed into his pickup and turned the key, listening to the engine roar into life, and sat there for a moment more, letting it warm up.

He thought about Daniel's request to investigate the people who, like SG-1, had visited P3X-468 in search of weapons technology and who, according to Daniel, had succumbed to the same evil the original inhabitants had. Would anyone be left to tell the story? If those first people hadn't visited P3X-468, would humans on earth now be suffering the same fate? Daniel thought so, and Jack believed that Sam and Teal'c did, too. He wasn't sure what he thought.

He let the memories lead him back to his dream or vision of Domnall, the Ua Neill, who'd referred to Daniel as Jack's lover. That had to be wishful thinking; the real Domnall would never have said that, Jack was fairly certain. So all it told him was what lived in his heart; Domnall hadn't been real, hadn't been telling him the future, or giving him advice. But ever since Jack had heard or imagined those words, he'd looked at Daniel with different eyes. He had crossed some Rubicon he hadn't known had existed, and could never return.

Nor, he admitted to himself, did he want to. All he wanted was Daniel.

He pulled out of Oliver's parking lot and headed home, lost in thought about Daniel and Domnall and what to do. By the time he unlocked his front door, he'd had an idea and charged straight to his study and booted up his computer. He typed in the words "Celtic" and "homosexuality" into Google.com and found pages and pages of articles, skimming them curiously, until he found one intriguingly entitled "Bums in Brigantia." Laughing at the phrase, he read that Celtic warriors freely engaged in homosexual relations, that there was little evidence prior to Christianity for hostility toward same-sex relations, and, of greatest interest to Jack, that the Celts did not consider it shameful that males elected to take the passive role.

Well, fancy that, he thought, leaning back so his chair balanced on the back legs as he stared into the glowing monitor. He hadn't even taken off his coat, so anxious was he to learn more about his background and what Domnall's words might have meant. He took considerable pride in his Celtic heritage, and felt akin to his warrior ancestors. The Ua Neill had been known as a fierce warrior, and Jack was happy to bear his name into the battles he'd fought, including the ones fought on other worlds.

Maybe Domnall had meant what he said, Jack thought, thumping to the ground. He powered down the computer and pulled off his coat. It had been a long day, and he had a lot to think about. Daniel as fili to Jack's king, perhaps, and he smiled again as he headed toward the shower.

By the time Jack arrived on base the next morning, Daniel had already emailed Jack and General Hammond a formal request to begin investigating the planet he believed the Celts who'd explored P3X-468 were from. The attachment justifying his request was nearly thirty pages long, and included references to other planets visited, earth cultures long since extinct, .jpgs of the obelisk, and the translation by him and J. J. Ruadh of the words on it. Jack would've said yes no matter what, but, by now, the familiar glyphs worked like a bell on Pavlov's dogs to him, and knowing that Daniel wanted to go was all it took.

Jack had coffee in the general's office at nine, an informal meeting they held when he wasn't off-world, to go over personnel and budgetary issues. Today, when he walked in, Hammond was smiling at him, the .jpg of the obelisk glowing on the monitor behind him. Jack felt an answering smile on his face, and they laughed, a little embarrassed. Two old war dogs, indeed.

"Permission granted for SG-1 to investigate further," Hammond said, and Jack nodded. With no other comment on Daniel's request, they turned to the business of the day.

* * *

The next morning, Sam stared at the glyphs on her monitor, and glanced at Sergeant Davis sitting next to her. "Let's try 'em," she said, and he nodded, punching them in. As each chevron locked, she could feel Daniel's excitement growing. He stood about two feet behind her, but seemed to be beaming out particles of excited tension that bounced off everything in the control room. Davis had a slight smile on his face; he must be feeling it, too, she decided.

Two other figures hovered behind her, like ministering angels: Jack on one side of Daniel and Teal'c on the other. It was unusual for the entire team to be here when Sam tried a new address, but this was special. Why, she couldn't articulate to herself, but somehow, this was special.

"Sixth chevron locked," Davis intoned. Sam often wondered if he got tired of saying the same thing over and over, or if he found a certain pleasure, even comfort, as she did, in the routine of their task. "Seventh chevron . . . locked," he said with satisfaction, and they watched in silence as the wormhole engaged with its still-awesome whoosh and the event horizon began to shimmer its ghostly pale light.

"Send in the clowns," Colonel O'Neill told them, and she grinned at Davis as they sent the MALP trundling up the ramp and watched as it was sucked into the wormhole. There was the usual tense hiatus while they waited for the impossible to happen, and then a sudden, sharp hiss as the MALP's camera and microphone began to broadcast back to them.

"Trees," O'Neill announced, and she nodded, her eyes flickering over the various monitors -- visual, infrared, radar, and thermal.

There was another pause as Davis adjusted the visual monitor, and then Sam said, "Temperature about fifty degrees Fahrenheit. Thirty-two percent humidity. Atmosphere very similar to earth's. Not picking up any sound. Some random heat emissions; probably small animals. Nothing large."

"Nothing large as in human-sized?" Daniel asked, and she nodded.

"More like bird-sized."

"Move the camera," O'Neill ordered, and Davis began a slow three-sixty. Lots of trees -- most were oak-like, she thought, with some that had peeling white bark, like young birches. Then the stargate itself came into view, positioned on an overgrown platform of flagstones, and behind it more trees. As the camera returned to its original position, Davis stopped it, and pointed at the monitor. Was that a path?

All three of her teammates leaned over her shoulders and peered closely into the monitor. Did humans make that? she knew they were asking themselves, or some animal? A deer, or an Unas? A Tollan or a Goa'uld?

Well, only one way to find out, she knew, and sat back. She already knew they were going.

The wormhole remained engaged for nearly thirty minutes, so Davis was able to maneuver the MALP down the path a short distance, before it became too overgrown for the MALP's bulky width. She thought it had been made by animals, and could easily picture deer delicately tapping their way along it, uncautious in the absence of humans. The tape was quickly copied and given to both her and Daniel for further study and ultimately would provide the basis of a report to the colonel. Depending on their findings, he and the general would decide whether or not they'd go. Or, more accurately, when they'd go.

Teal'c followed her to her lab, as he'd begun to do since their visit to P3X-468. She had found herself turning to him for company, more than to Daniel or Janet, and she knew he was seeking her out more than he did O'Neill. Sam wasn't very clear about the appropriateness of their friendship; was it sliding into, of all things, a romance? Did she want that? Every time she grew fond of a man, he seemed to be killed or Goa'ulded; did she want to risk Teal'c? And what if they became more than friends; what would it do to the team dynamics?

Nonetheless, she took comfort in his large presence, his surprising knowledge, and his subtle sense of humor. And if, occasionally, she found herself touching his hand for emphasis, or standing more closely to him than she did to other people, she accepted it, and found pleasure in it, and wondered where all this was going.

As he seemed to. Because he, too, stood nearer than he'd used to. He even touched her occasionally, something he'd never done before. Delicately, cautiously; with anyone else, she would have said that he touched her shyly, but she didn't think he knew the meaning of the word "shy." She'd invited him to dinner at her house three times since P3X-468; each date was marked on the calendar that hung in her kitchen. He had taken her to a movie; in the base theatre, it was true, but nonetheless, he'd invited her and met her at her office and walked her to the theatre and even bought her popcorn.

These quotidian actions had stunned her, left her breathless in her bed at night as she remembered sitting next to him, bumping into him as she shifted in her seat, their hands skidding in a buttery collision in the large bag of popcorn. Amazing! she'd told herself. Teal'c eats popcorn. Teal'c watches movies. Stuff she'd done all her life, with girlfriends and boyfriends and serious lovers, Teal'c and she were doing, and it flabbergasted her.

Today, she settled in her lab and watched as he popped the video into the VCR and came to stand next to her while they watched it replay. He handed her the remote and their hands lingered; Sam felt herself blush and hoped he couldn't read human faces well enough to wonder what it meant. She wasn't sure how she'd answer if he were to ask.

Fortunately, he didn't ask, just watched the monitor while she watched its light flicker over his handsome face. What was it with her and aliens? she asked herself for the thousandth time. What was it with her and Teal'c? What did she want from him? And if she ever figured that out, was there a chance in the universe that he would want it, too?

Well, it was a moot point right now. They had work to do. She turned her attention to the video of this new place, the Celts' home, as Daniel called it, and began to study the various readouts again.

"Do you not desire coffee?" he surprised her when the tape ended. She looked up at his kind face and, as if the mirrors in a kaleidoscope had shifted and brought the image into a new configuration, she knew what she wanted. What her heart wanted. She'd known it all along. The strong planes of his face, his Egyptian eyes, the firm mouth, the gleaming gold-dusted skin, suddenly became something else, something dearer and of the utmost importance to her.

She realized she was staring at him and swallowed. "Yes, please," she answered meekly, and the tone in her voice told her more than she ever wanted to know about herself.

She would obey this man, she knew. Her independence, so hard-won, so vital to her self-perception, shifted, too, and she knew in her bones and blood that he owned her in a way no human being ever had or ever would. She shivered, because she knew she would do anything he asked. Even leave him.

Sighing, she watched him begin the careful process of making coffee, something Daniel had tutored him in so he made excellent coffee, much better than she did, and she felt humbly grateful to him. He asked me if I wanted coffee! she thought, like a schoolgirl, reading significance into the slightest gesture, the most casual word, but she also knew she was right.

"Come home with me tonight, Teal'c," she said, not recognizing her voice. He paused, a scoop of coffee beans held in mid-air, and then turned slightly. After all their years together, she knew he was smiling at her.

"I would be honored, Samantha," he said, and her shoulders relaxed, her jaw unclenched, and her stomach cartwheeled with delight.

Holy Hannah, she thought in a daze.

The day passed like a dream, the dream where everything moves so slowly no matter how fast you run. She wanted the clock to move faster, her report to write itself, but the clock ticked stubbornly on and Teal'c was his usual thorough self as they pieced together justifications to visit the tree-filled world on the monitor.

In the late afternoon, he at last touched her, a barely-perceptible touch to her elbow. Heat bloomed in her face and her heart rate flashed like silver nitrate touched by a match as she turned to him, fearful, humiliated, hopeful. "We have enough," he told her gently, and she began shutting down her instruments while he finished the first draft of their report. She grabbed her coat, but he took it from her and helped her into it, and she let him, wondering at his power over her body. They walked through the hallways with six inches between them and she felt on fire with the knowledge of what was to come. What she hoped was to come.

It was a little embarrassing, to check Teal'c out of the base, as if he were an especially valuable library book; and now it was on record for the entire Air Force, NID, and Joint Chiefs of Staff that he would spend the night at her home. Nothing he hadn't done before, but somehow, this night was different. This night was fraught with meaning that other nights hadn't borne.

Finally, she pulled into her driveway, happy and frightened to be home. They hadn't spoken since they'd left the base, not unusual between them, but still she longed for some reassurance. She started to say something banal, like, "We're here," when he touched her again, his hand gentle on her shoulder, and like a flower to the sun she turned to him sitting so near in her car.

She thought she'd detonate like a claymore when he leaned near her and said, "Let me open your door," and then sat quietly as he exited the car, not without some effort as it was a little car and he was a very large man, and then opened her door and helped her out. They walked hand in hand into her kitchen, where he took her coat and hung it in the right closet, and she realized he knew her home. He returned and took her hand, drawing her closer to him, until she stood within his embrace, head tilted back like the heroine on the cover of a romance novel. "Samantha," he said, and she shyly slid her hands onto his massive chest. He sighed with obvious pleasure at her touch and she knew then that she had just as much power over him as he had over her. Just as her body would obey his, so his would obey hers. She tilted her head very slightly and parted her lips, and he came to her almost submissively. Worshipfully, she thought, and then she thought no more.

She was clinging to him, moaning, when he stopped kissing her, and she pushed her body against his purposefully. "My Samantha," he whispered, and she shivered. Her nipples were aching for his touch, and she rubbed voluptuously against him, feeling his excitement swell against her stomach. Holy Hannah. They were going to do this. She pushed against him again, and this time he understood and led her to her bedroom. Their bedroom.

Sam was literally gasping in her excitement when he shut the door behind him, and she began to undress Teal'c while he bent to kiss her again, sucking on her tongue as she wanted him to suck on her breasts and her clitoris. Oh my god, she thought when she finally touched his bare chest. Oh dear god.

Holy fucking Hannah.

* * *

Jack had followed Daniel to his lab after Davis had handed him his copy of the tape. "Tell me why we should go," he said, just to get a rise out of Daniel. Daniel merely gave him a look, one long-perfected in the classroom, Jack suspected, and if he'd been a lesser man, it would've put him in his place. "No, really."

"Jack. That's why I'm studying this tape, why Sam is. So I can give you an intelligent answer."

"Well, you sent that proposal and a fifty-page attachment . . . "

"Thirty."

"Yadda. So you must have some idea."

"If you'd read the proposal and the attachment, you'd know what that idea was."

"Bullet-point recap."

Daniel sighed, but Jack knew him well enough to know that he was enjoying this. He continued to busy himself, cueing up the tape, booting up his laptop and launching Word, while responding. "First and most importantly -- to me, I admit; not to the military -- I want to find out the chicken-and-the-egg answer. Did the Celts originate on earth or elsewhere? If on earth, who took them, and why? If elsewhere, how'd they come to earth?"

"I'm Celtic. You sayin' I'm an alien?"

"Yes."

Jack could feel his eyebrows raise like railroad crossing bars, but he also saw Daniel try to hide a grin. Those dimples flashed, though, and Jack knew the appropriate response. "Daniel."

"Jack."

Now they smiled at each other, and Jack's heart expanded with pleasure and, he admitted to himself, with love. Daniel took pity on him and began to explain, but Jack simply watched. He was in love.

Ever since their experience on P3X-468, Jack had known this. He'd known he loved Daniel for some time -- ever since Daniel had saved his life on Abydos, all those years ago. But time and experience had worn Jack down, or buoyed him up, he wasn't sure which, and finally he could admit the truth of his heart: He was in love with Daniel Jackson.

Finding that web page about how Celtic warriors had turned to each other had helped along that admission. It was as if Domnall Ua Neill himself had given him permission to love Daniel. Of course, Jack hadn't figured out if he should actually tell Daniel that he loved him. That was still uncharted territory, and Domnall hadn't been any help there at all. Nor were any web pages he'd found, and he'd been looking. If the NID was still keeping an eye on Jack, they'd be laughing their asses off. Asses being the operative word.

Instead, Jack contented himself with spending as much time with Daniel as he could, grateful that their friendship was well-known and unremarked after all this time. He'd heard speculation about his and Daniel's relationship for years and never really minded. Gossip was everywhere, and not much could be done about it. In fact, now he was grateful for it, because his new-found feelings for Daniel would go unnoticed. The people who believed they were already lovers would continue to do so, or at least say they did, and the people who didn't believe it would continue to deny it. All in all, a pretty satisfactory arrangement. No matter what happened.

Now if he could just figure out what, if anything, he wanted to happen.

"You're not listening to a word I say, are you," Daniel interrupted his thoughts, but he didn't look too terrifically annoyed. "When will I learn you do this just to annoy me?"

"Never?"

"Ass."

"Nice, isn't it?" Jack said, twisting around as if to admire his own behind, and heard Daniel snort in disgusted amusement.

"Lovely," he said, and Jack felt ridiculously pleased.

"Yours, too," he said generously, and enjoyed making Daniel blush.

"Um," he said, and Jack smiled at him, so he flushed even more, and Jack remembered again standing at Daniel's door, wanting to kiss him but afraid to. Next time, he promised himself. No more fear. Their lives were too short, too fragile, to waste worrying about this shit. He'd just do it. Daniel was a grown and articulate man with no problem expressing his opinion to Jack, often at hearing-damaging volume, and if by some chance it turned out he didn't want Jack to kiss him, he'd find a way to let Jack know. Not that Jack believed for a second that he wouldn't want Jack to kiss him. Daniel looked back. Daniel smiled. Daniel *flirted* with Jack.

Daniel composed himself enough to return to his arguments for visiting the Celts' home planet, and Jack forced himself to pay close enough attention to say "hmm," and "oh?" in the right places. Really, though, he was revisiting some of those web pages he'd discovered, and imagining himself doing and being done to by Daniel. After this mission, he promised himself. He didn't think he'd be able to work once he'd made his move. If Daniel responded, he wanted a week alone with him; if he declined, Jack wanted a week alone to recover. Either way, now wasn't the time.

He sighed, and Daniel looked up at him, a little concerned. "Naw, it's nothing. Just sorry that there probably won't be anybody at home. It might be cool to meet a long-lost cousin."

"Yeah. I have some Irish in me on my father's side," he said, looking down at the keyboard under his hands. "It might have been cool."

"So Carter'll send out that UAV, you'll finish this report, I'll combine it with the mission plan, and then we'll go."

Daniel looked up mischievously. "You're so sure General Hammond will approve this mission?"

Jack rolled his eyes. As if Hammond were any more able to deny Daniel than he was, not that he was about to admit that to Daniel. "Jesus. Do the research, write the proposal, and we'll see."

He smiled. "I thought maybe."

Jack resisted the temptation to slap his lovely ass. "I gotta go," he said, quite honestly -- before he did something ahead of his schedule. "I'll come back this afternoon, see how you're progressing."

"You mean you actually have work to do?"

"Ass," he said as he left Daniel's office.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Daniel shouted after him, and an airman smiled at Jack. Christ. So much for rumor-control.

Jack headed first for Carter's office, to see what she was up to, but she was deep in discussion with Teal'c, their heads together as they stared into yet another monitor. Too much television as kids, Jack diagnosed, before remembering that Teal'c hadn't suffered that pleasure as a child. He left them for his own office where he really did have work he should be doing.

He had lunch alone, drafting a memo to Hammond about re-configuring two of the SG teams and another about recruiting more social scientists, including another archaeologist whom Daniel had brought to his attention. A Brit, he noted with a little displeasure; he wasn't wild about their accents. He had enough trouble with scientists' vocabulary; he didn't need the confusion of an accent in combination with that.

Around three he decided he needed to stretch his legs and headed back to Carter's lab; she and Teal'c had disappeared, but he found Daniel still hard at work, annotating the notes from his initial memo.

"Have you eaten?"

He looked up blearily. "Excuse me?"

"Daniel. Put down the keyboard and no one will be injured. Let's go. Carter and Teal'c are already gone. Let's get some dinner."

"Jack, it's still early . . . "

"No, actually, it's pretty late for lunch; you're moving into an early dinner. Come on."

"Ja-ack."

But Jack wasn't playing that game. Daniel was his responsibility, had been for years, and now that Jack had recognized exactly what he felt for Daniel, he'd become even more of a responsibility, but in the best possible way. A responsibility in the sense a treasure is a responsibility.

Treasure. Jesus. Jack very nearly slapped himself in the head, but then Daniel would ask what was wrong, and he wasn't ready to say anything. Not until after this mission. He and Daniel needed to stay focused. So he just turned out the lights and listened to Daniel cuss him out in fourteen languages but, as he'd known would happen, Daniel powered down his computer by the light falling from the corridor, and followed him out.

The commissary was nearly empty at that time of day, so they sprawled out at a large table, Jack taking up as much space as he liked, propping his long legs up on another chair, and enjoying bullying Daniel into eating instead of working. "You know we're gonna go, right?"

Daniel nodded, chewing on a roll. "Yeah," he said, and swallowed. "Yeah, I know. I wanna be as prepared as possible. Once Sam gets that UAV through and the readings back, we'll be ready.

"Are you excited, Jack? About seeing this place?"

Jack's first impulse, as always, was to play the fool, but respect for his heritage, and for Daniel, stopped him. He took a sip of his iced tea and thought, remembering his vision in the cavern on P3X-468. "Yeah. I am. Well, curious. Are you?"

Daniel nodded. "Very much so. And for once, J. J.'s pretty excited, too."

Jack didn't want to talk about J. J.; he didn't like her under the best of circumstances. "Are you excited in the usual wonders-of-the-universe sense? Or is this special?"

There was a long pause, while Daniel thought over his answer. At last he said, "Special. That obelisk. And I saw --"

When Daniel didn't continue, Jack waved his glass encouraging. "You saw?"

Shyly, Daniel said, "When we were on P3X-468, I had a dream. About Bridget, same as Sam did. Only." He bit his lip and stared into space. "I can't really remember it. Something about water, and destroying a city. A white city." He focused again on Jack, looking very embarrassed. "Stupid, I know. But it felt important. Significant."

"Like my dream of Domnall, the Ua Neill. The first of the O'Neills."

"And a king of Ireland," Daniel said, smiling at Jack.

"Well, yeah."

"What did Domnall tell you?"

Jack stared at him, his throat tight. He'd just been handed an opportunity to confess his feelings to Daniel. But handed it here, in the commissary of the SGC, in the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain, beneath NORAD, on a don't ask-don't tell Air Force base, immediately prior to a mission that held, for Jack, considerable emotional significance. Not exactly the time or place he would've chosen.

Feeling as embarrassed as Daniel looked, Jack glanced around, making sure no one was in hearing distance, and said softly, "I would like to tell you, Daniel. After this next mission. I, uh, I promise. After this next mission."

Daniel looked puzzled but, as Jack had known, only nodded, accepting Jack's promise despite his obvious curiosity. Jack settled back in his chair, a little breathless. He'd committed himself now. No backing out of this.

They finished their meal and Jack walked Daniel back to his office before heading off for his own work.

* * *

Sam woke with her face pressed against a large, warm back, and stretched luxuriously, and then kissed Teal's spine. He rolled to face her, sliding his arm under her shoulders and pulling her up to kiss her. "We are late, Samantha," he rumbled, and she sighed.

"I know, I know." He kissed her again and then laid her gently back into the bed before standing up. She felt nearly desperate for his touch and kicked off the covers. "Teal'c." He turned and she spread her legs. He groaned, and she watched him rise to her.

"Samantha," he whispered, but she touched her breast seductively and he came to her. She was still wet and, regardless of her soreness, eager for him, and he slid straight into her. She spread her legs wider and wrapped them around his hips, urging him into her. Despite the discomfort, she wanted him, she wanted to feel him, what he'd done to her, all day. He began to thrust into her, and she pushed herself into each one. He pulled out slightly and she cried in dismay, but he only put his arms beneath her thighs and lifted, tilting her pelvis to an angle so each thrust pulled against her clitoris in the most delicious manner. He bent over and began to fuck her, suckling her breast, and she spread her legs wider yet, anxious for the burn in her thigh muscles. She wanted to feel this, she thought, nearly furious in her desire for more sensation, for more Teal'c; he gasped and pushed harder, and she felt him come inside her.

When he lay over her, careful not to crush her, she twisted and he obediently rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She planted her knees on either side of him and moved her hips so his still-firm dick pressed against her in the most pleasurable manner, panting into his chest, and then the waves of her orgasm rolled through her and she came, sore and exhausted and satisfied for the moment. A clash of warriors, sensual warriors.

"We will be late," he whispered, and she kissed his ear.

"Fuck 'em."

He turned to smile at her and she saw again what a predator he could be. "I would rather fuck you, my heart." She groaned as she felt him rise against her yet again.

"You are going to kill me, aren't you." But he didn't answer, and they began to move again. They were going to be so late, without any excuse, and she didn't care, she didn't care, she had forsaken all others for him.

* * *

Daniel was pleased when that morning Teal'c, instead of Sam, brought him the news that she had sent out the UAV earlier that day. Teal'c gave him a video tape of the UAV's flight recorders, and a promise that Sam would be by later to discuss it with him. "Wow," he said when the first viewing was over, and he looked at Teal'c for confirmation. But Teal'c was, unbelievably, staring into space, a slight smile curling his severe mouth. "Teal'c? Have you seen this?"

"I have done so, Daniel Jackson. Major Carter believed you would find it fascinating."

"She's right, I do. What do you think?"

"I think I am anxious for this next mission to be over."

Not the answer Daniel was expecting, but a sentiment he shared. "Uh. Yeah," he finally answered, remembering that Jack had promised to tell him something important after this mission, but he managed to drag his attention back to the rewinding tape. He needed to review this about a dozen more times before he could even begin to formulate his questions about it.

This time, he took notes, stopping the tape regularly to stare at different features, jot down little diagrams, and try to capture what he was seeing in words. At first, the now-familiar stargate platform, their MALP to the right. The UAV flew over the MALP and above and along the narrow winding path it had started down. The trees were thick with gold leaves; it was autumn on the Celts' home planet. Something like mistletoe glowed amidst the gold, and long streams of witches' hair hung like sage-green netting. Other trees, their bark shedding in long scrolls like young birches, gleamed whitely in the late afternoon sun. Oak and birch, Daniel thought: sacred to the Druids. He wondered if the trees had originated here, or if they'd been taken from earth.

The land fell down, away from the stargate, and he thought, as he often had before, about how frequently stargates were situated at elevated locations. The UAV rose higher above the forest and suddenly, in the distance, he could see the city.

The City. White and gleaming in the low tawny rays of the setting sun. He pressed nearer the monitor as if to hurry the UAV along. Broad empty boulevards, like Paris in the early morning, with wide sidewalks lined with enormous trees. Tall buildings rose from neatly squared yards, with large second-story balconies from which to watch the people passing below.

Except there were no people, and, when the UAV reached the city, Daniel saw that the sidewalks were cracked by subsidence, the tree roots creeping up from them, twining around the broken and rusted low fences. The windows were empty of glass or drapery, and doors stood fallen and open to the elements.

The city had been empty for a very long time, Daniel knew. No one lived there now. Whatever people had built these beautiful streets were long since gone, unmourned by the buildings they left behind.

The UAV sailed on, into business districts and then a city center, ringed with fountains and impressive statues. It circled one, a tall bull-necked man with the long upper lip of the Irish; he wore a crown of what looked like oak leaves and stared sternly over the city. Someone important. Maybe their Ua Neill.

Next came residential areas and then what had to be a university, and Daniel longed to walk through its halls and explore its libraries. From there, the UAV circled back, obediently returning to the stargate where it made a landing that left its camera pointed straight at the stargate. The event horizon closed and the images ended.

"This is amazing," he told Teal'c, who nodded. He rewound the tape and watched it again, the first of many times.

Sam arrived nearly an hour later, and Daniel was startled by her appearance. She had a different look to her. Even, he thought, a different walk. She was a beautiful woman; quite intimidatingly so, really, but he'd always been very careful to ignore her gender as much as possible. Once he'd realized how brilliant she was and how similarly their minds worked, it had been easy to see past her lovely exterior. And then, as they worked together, her effortless protectiveness and affection for him turned familial, and she'd become the big sister he'd never had but always longed for.

But for the first time in years, he suddenly saw her as a woman. As a very beautiful, very desirable woman. He was embarrassed by this realization, although he didn't understand why, and averted his gaze, as if her beauty were dangerous, and he puzzled over his sudden recognition of her femininity as much as he did the translation of the obelisk. Soon he was re-absorbed in his task, though, and then a minute or an hour later asked, "Any infrared readings?"

"There were none." He hadn't been expecting Teal'c to answer, but only nodded and made another note.

By the next morning, he, Sam, and Teal'c had investigated every frame of the twenty minute recording. His eyes burned, and his stomach was upset from too much coffee. Jack wouldn't be happy with him, he knew, but the work was simply too exciting. How could he turn out the lights and go home when this world existed? He longed to go there, to walk those broad streets, to reverently touch the books that must exist there.

"Carter, you wearin' makeup?" Jack asked, and Daniel looked up, bleary-eyed. Jack had stopped just inside the door and was staring at Sam. Daniel remembered his initial reaction to her the prior morning and began to study her as carefully as he had the video.

She *did* look different, he thought, but not because of makeup. She stood taller, prouder, and her pretty smile was threatening to blind them all. Teal'c also gazed at her, almost in wonder, Daniel thought. For a moment, all four teammates stood silently, their relationship disturbed in some tiny way. Then Daniel sighed and said, "Jack, you need to watch this video," and everyone moved again.

To Daniel's pleasure, Jack was just as impressed as he'd hoped, and suddenly eager to visit this place. Sam's computer designation was P4X-531, but they called it the Celts' home. Celtshome, in Daniel's mind, and he began to play with variations of the words, wondering how they would evolve over time. The four of them plotted their mission -- first to the civic center, then to the library.

When Jack realized that Daniel, Teal'c, and Sam had spent all night viewing the video tape, he sent them home. Daniel, in particular, felt his concern and irritation, and Jack kept him back a moment to scold him. "We just talked about this Daniel," he told him quietly, while Daniel twisted in frustrated desire to do more. "You know you have to be rested and ready for these missions. What are you thinking, staying up all night like a kid at a slumber party?"

"Jack, this is important work --" he started, but Jack just shook his head.

"Come on. I'm taking you home. You got any food in your place? No? Well, I do, so you're coming with me."

Feeling unjustly reproved, Daniel followed him yet again through the corridors of the SGC, up through the various security levels, and then into the parking lot. "No, you're not driving." He let himself be herded into Jack's pickup and once again he found himself being taken care of by Jack, as he had so often before.

"Look, Jack," he started when they were out on the highway back to Colorado Springs, "how often do we go off-world? For every mission, I estimate we spend nearly forty hours in preparation. I'm also head of my department; I have the other social scientists to supervise. They like me to review their work, and I want them to review mine. I've got a great department, with some wonderful people -- I need to take advantage of their skills and knowledge. There just isn't enough time in the day to do it all. That means I'm going to work long days. It's the same for Sam, you know that."

Jack stared straight ahead, his mouth in a tight line. He sighed and said, "Yeah, I know. I work long hours, too. It's just -- you're head of your department, Sam's head of hers, Teal'c has his responsibilities, but I'm responsible for *all* of you."

"I know you are. And really, I appreciate you looking out for us. For me. No one's ever done that before. But all the work we do is important."

Daniel could tell that Jack was softening; the lines on his face seemed less severe, at least the glimpses of it he caught in the passing streetlights. "Forty hours per mission, hunh. I knew it was a lot."

Daniel knew then that he was forgiven. He was still a little irritated with Jack's high-handedness, but he'd always found Jack hard to resist.

"Yeah, I worked it out one time. Plus one social scientist per SG team, times each of their missions -- it is a lot." Jack only nodded.

Jack did have food for a late breakfast, or maybe a very late dinner, for Daniel, a big pot of chile he'd frozen, with apples and cheese for dessert, eaten in the kitchen while they discussed the upcoming mission. While they washed up, Jack changed the subject. "You notice anything about Carter?"

For an instant, Daniel was tempted to be flip, but this was about Sam, so he said, "Yes, I did. She was different."

"Yeah." Jack rested his hands on the edge of the sink, staring into nothing. At last he said, "Sex."

"Excuse me?"

"Sex. She was a *she*. Not just Doctor Major Carter, or even Sam. She was. I dunno. Sexed up."

"Sam has *never* been sexed up," Daniel said hotly, defending his beloved friend, but even as he objected he realized he was wrong.

"Yeah, see. You see it, too."

Daniel didn't answer. Had Sam found a boyfriend? And not told him? They told each other everything, he would've sworn it. When would she find time for a boyfriend, anyway? Was it some airman? A guy from college come visiting her? He sighed. "Yeah, maybe." He looked at Jack. "You okay with that?"

Jack started washing dishing again, scrubbing the same pot compulsively, not meeting Daniel's eyes. "As long as it doesn't fuck up the team dynamics, I don't care if she's fucking half of Colorado Springs."

"Jack!"

"Okay, half would be too many."

"Jack O'Neill, that's a friend you're being a jerk about."

Jack finally looked at him. "She's your friend, Daniel, and I like Carter very much. I care about her. But first and always, she's my subordinate. I have to worry about the team first, and then the individual members."

Daniel stared at him, a little hurt and a little confused. Finally, he said, "Oh," and busied himself drying dishes. Before he'd finished the first one, though, Jack surprised him by laying his soapy hand on Daniel's arm. He looked up at him shyly.

"Not you," Jack said softly. "You -- we're different, Daniel. Our, uh, our friendship. It's different."

"I'm *not* your subordinate," Daniel told him fiercely, and Jack nodded.

"No, despite my best efforts."

They didn't say anything more about Sam that day, but Daniel thought about her again, as he readied himself for bed. He wanted her to be happy, he did. He was just a little surprised that her life could change so significantly without him noticing, and without her confiding in him. He sat on the edge of Jack's guest bed, staring at his stockinged feet. A bit too wired for sleep.

"Jack?" he called, poking his head into the hallway.

"Yeah?" Jack handed Daniel the robe he used when he stayed over. "Cognac?"

"Yeah."

Daniel got the bottle of Paul Beau Borderies Extra Vieilles from the dining room and followed Jack into the kitchen, where he was pulling down the brandy snifters.

"Weird to be going to bed in the middle of the day."

"Well, if you'd gone home last night . . . "

Daniel just rolled his eyes, unwilling to start up that argument again. They sat at the kitchen table, as they had so many times, and toasted each other. Maybe because of his thoughts about Sam, a poem by Yeats came to Daniel when he lifted his glass to Jack, and after Jack had said his usual "Slainte," Daniel replied:

"Wine comes in at the mouth

 

And love comes in at the eye;

 

That's all that we will know for truth

 

Before we grow old and die.

 

I lift the glass to my mouth,

 

I look at you and I sigh."

Jack stared at him, and Daniel felt himself blushing. He gulped the cognac in embarrassment, but refused to apologize. When he looked up from his glass, Jack was smiling brilliantly at him, and Daniel was reminded of the statue of the king on the Celts' home. All Jack needed was a crown of oak leaves.

"Thank you," was all Jack said, and that's all that needed to be said, Daniel thought.

Daniel, to his embarrassment, slept all that day and night, thereby giving Jack lots of ammunition for the next time he tried to pull an all-nighter. The next day, Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel finished the proposal to visit the Celts' home planet, or P4X-531 as they referred to it in the report, and Daniel emailed it off to Jack and General Hammond. Their excuse was, of course, to learn whether the inhabitants had discovered any weapons technology from P3X-468, and the usual objectives of finding minerals or any evidence that the Goa'uld had visited the planet. But really, Daniel longed to walk those streets, with Jack at his side, and stand beneath the statue in the civic center of The City.

Daniel paid close attention to Sam as they wrote. She really wasn't wearing any more makeup than she usually did. But he found her glowing, with secret smiles for both him and Teal'c. She actually blushed at something Teal'c said, a phenomenon Daniel had never seen occur before, though he himself was certainly subject to blushes when Jack was around. He shook his head in disbelief and tried to be happy for her.

The general approved their mission, of course, as if there'd ever been a moment's doubt, and it was duly scheduled for the following Tuesday, four days away, to give Jack the time necessary to flesh out the mission plan. Daniel busied himself in his usual preparations, wondering as he did each time that something as extraordinary as going off-world could have been routinized into a to-do list: Clean out the fridge. Do laundry. He always washed sheets before he left, so he'd come home to clean ones. That had started when each time he'd stepped off-world he thought he'd bring home Sha'uri. Hope and Sha'uri had both died, but the habit remained, and Daniel was superstitious about it now, as if not changing the sheets might mean he wouldn't return home.

Home. Such an evocative word. So many languages didn't have a special word for home -- in Spanish and Polish, for example, one went to the house. But a house was not a home, as many others before Daniel had observed. A comfortable word, a loving word.

Where is my home? Daniel thought as he did each time he locked the door to his apartment behind him. He stared at it for a moment. I want to go home.

He turned and walked to the elevator.

* * *

Jack checked his watch again, knowing he was annoying Daniel by doing so, but he was pissed. Carter and Teal'c were, improbably, running late. What was with Carter these days? First she walked around glowing like the Bride of Ireland, and she'd been late to work twice now. He chewed over this puzzle, determined to piece it together. He could see that Daniel didn't care; he was too excited about the world they were off to visit. Books, he'd said a thousand times if he'd said it once to Jack, and Jack knew they'd be lugging home not trinium or naquadah but backpacks full of books if Daniel had his way.

Which Jack would personally see to it he did, if Carter and Teal'c ever got their asses here.

"Hey," he said grumpily when the door slid open to reveal them. Carter was flushed again; she'd been alternating between pink and red all week. Even Teal'c looked pinker than possible, given the golden-brown of his skin. Jack watched them glance at each other as they stood nearly at attention before him.

"Sorry, sir," Carter said, and he could tell she meant it.

"I regret our tardiness, O'Neill."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on." He turned abruptly, leaving them to follow, and gently pushed Daniel along. Soonest there, soonest back.

The general and Sergeant Davis were peering down at them, so Jack gave them a sloppy salute to indicate they were finally ready, and the chevrons began locking into place. He loved this moment. He fucking loved it. The *noise* the chevrons made, the flashing lights, and then, of course, that incredible *whoosh* that signaled not the end of the world but the joining of this one with another. Impossible, completely impossible, and yet there he stood, Jack O'Neill, ready to step out onto another planet.

Fuckin' A he was ready.

Daniel always paused just a breath before stepping through the event horizon. Jack's heart told him that Daniel was remembering Sha'uri at that moment. A moment of prayer, and one he joined in. God rest her poor soul, he told himself, and very nearly crossed himself at the thought. No one deserved her fate, any more than Daniel deserved his. Well, if God was good, they'd spent their eternity together. For now, in this sublunar realm, Jack would take care of Daniel for Sha'uri, until they met again. At which time Jack's heart would break, he knew, but he loved Daniel more than he loved himself, and he would deliver him to his wife should that time ever come.

And then he was through the wormhole and breathing the air of another world, air scented with damp leaves and something menthol-ish, like eucalyptus. He stepped off the stargate's platform and down the path the MALP had taken, noting the white soil churned up by its treads and wondering what, if anything, that meant.

"About three clicks to the outskirts of the city," Carter called out, but they all already knew this. Just Carter, doing her thing. Daniel was peering from side to side; Jack always kept a close eye on him. He had a tendency to dart off into the forest if he saw something interesting, and Jack wanted to stay near him in case that something was interestingly dangerous. But the woods were just woods, or maybe Daniel was so eager to reach the city that he was ignoring whatever temptations lived among these trees.

The sky was a hazy blue, and a slight breeze brushed Jack's face as they made their way along the twisting path. The MALP was where it had gotten stuck and they spent a few moments hacking at the branches blocking it before Carter backed it up a bit. They'd easily be able to get it back to the stargate when they returned; for now, it could sit here.

At last they went on, Jack still in the lead with Daniel only a step from him. Such a short distance to the city; they could see it as soon as they crested the hill the stargate sat on, gleaming below them, the taller buildings poking above the tops of the trees. In twenty minutes they were standing on what had once been some kind of asphalt or macadam road, ruinously cracked and broken and mostly weed-covered, but clearly this had been an important road at one time.

"How long would it take grasses to overgrow this road, Daniel?" Sam asked him. He knelt and reverently touched the chunky black stuff.

"A long time," he said, and smiled shyly up at his teammates. "Hundreds of years. It's thick stuff, and it's been torn up pretty good. I'd need the botanists to look at the vegetation, but my first guess is at least five hundred years, and maybe more, depending on the weather here."

Jack nodded, gripping his P90 despite their apparent solitude. They walked on, staring around them as the city began to appear -- first isolated buildings, collapsed into themselves so they were barely recognizable as building, but soon larger ones, important ones that still rose several stories above the ground.

The first of these Daniel insisted on looking into, though Jack was apprehensive about its stability and insisted on poking at the wall with a stick he'd found and then kicking it. All he did was bruise a toe, though, so Daniel finally stuck his head inside. The roof had fallen long ago, though, and a false one of tree branches and thick mats of leaves had grown instead, so the interior was beyond recognition.

Taller buildings, though, had had their lower floors protected. It's just, Jack thought, nervously watching Daniel step inside what looked to him like an apartment building, that the taller ones are probably even less stable and more likely to fall onto Daniel the minute he sets foot in one. But Jack knew after their years together that Daniel wouldn't be satisfied, or stop pestering Jack, until he did go in, so he chose the sturdiest building he could find for him to explore.

Again, though, Daniel returned empty-handed and sad. "Everything's gone," he reported, checking his video camera. "I think I recognized what might have been a table. But nothing else."

The images from the UAV had been misleading. What had looked so appealing from high above was in fact as much as in ruin as Chitzen Itza. Jack watched Daniel's shoulders slump more and more as they progressed, and he hoped they found something. Anything. Just for Daniel.

At last they reached the civic center, with statues as large as any in Rome or Paris. The four teammates split up, Carter and Teal'c going left while Jack and Daniel went right, following the roundabout. The interior must've been a park, ages ago, and even Jack recognized smashed benches made of something like marble.

He stood next to Daniel, staring up at a statue of a man. To Jack's pleasure, he saw that the plinth was marked with some kind of letters -- ogham, he was sure. He nudged Daniel and pointed at it with the muzzle of his weapon; Daniel knelt and hesitantly touched it, stroking the notched edges with something like love.

"They're words, aren't they?" Jack asked him, and he nodded. "Can you read them?"

"I think I can." He quickly videotaped them, then pulled out a digital camera and snapped a dozen shots from several angles, making Jack hold a ruler to one side for several.

"Well," Jack said impatiently, when Daniel paused in his picture-taking frenzy. "What's it say, Jackson?"

Daniel looked up at him from where he knelt before the statue, looking so happy that Jack had to smile in spite of himself. "Just marking the passing of a noble man, Jack." Something in Daniel's tone of voice told Jack that he meant more than what he said, but he forbore to question him further. Daniel returned to making a rubbing of the markings, and Jack surveyed the area. Carter and Teal'c were now visible across the desolated park. He watched them idly, noting how closely they stood, and how Carter turned her head to look up into Teal'c's face, her smile a knock-out even at this distance.

They moved slowly forward and for two steps, Jack could see all of them, from their boots to the tops of their heads, before the lower half of their bodies disappeared behind the overgrown bushes filling the park. He realized with a shock that Teal'c was touching Carter. For those two steps, Jack had clearly seen Teal'c's hand on Carter's lower back. He couldn't be mistaken.

At that moment, Teal'c laughed, and then Jack knew.

"Jack? Jack?" He looked down at Daniel, trying to push his glasses up his nose with his left shoulder. "Can you help?"

"Sure, Danny," he said softly, and squatted next to him, carefully placing an index finger on the nosepiece and sliding them back in place.

"Thanks." Daniel kept working, rubbing the crayon against the paper, capturing the notched letters for his staff to review when they returned. Just as Jack would review again and again what he'd seen. Just two steps.

Teal'c and Carter found them still by the statue, Jack sitting on his pack while Daniel worked nearby. He was nearly finished by the time they arrived, and Jack was getting a bit hungry. "Take a load off," he told his teammates, and watched covertly how near they sat to each other, how Teal'c helped Carter with her pack, and how she offered him a kind of protein bar that Jack knew, because he'd introduced him to it, that Teal'c particularly enjoyed.

So. Interesting information. A bit disturbing, especially in light of his feelings for Daniel. What would this do to his team? Little frightened Jack, but the thought of the team fragmenting did. He'd seen it happen; he'd served in units that had collapsed under the weight of interpersonal conflict, and he didn't want that to happen to SG-1. Could they survive being paired off? If he and Daniel became what it was obvious to Jack that Carter and Teal'c had become, would the team be better balanced, or completely undone?

Well, time alone would tell. But he resolved not to rush anything. Though Daniel thought he was an immature asshole, he knew how to wait. He would wait. And while he waited, he would think about his dream of Domnall and what, if anything, it might have meant.

* * *

Sam was embarrassed by how aware she was of Teal'c's presence. Hyper-aware. As if she'd developed some sense by which to track him. And she knew she was watching him too closely. The colonel or Daniel would get suspicious; she had to stop, she *had* to. But she couldn't. He drew her eyes as no other ever had. It was as though he was her sun and she his world revolving around him.

You're not in the fifth grade, Carter, she scolded herself, but all for naught. When he sat near her while they watched Daniel carefully fold up the rubbings he'd done of the statue's base, she felt herself scoot closer to him, despite her efforts not to. She wanted him. She wanted the freedom to turn to him, to sit with his arms around her, to kiss him hello, even in front of the colonel and Daniel.

Daniel. Oh, god. She needed to tell Daniel. They never kept secrets from each other. Even the humiliating ones, they'd shared them all. Bad dates, sad dates, everything was fodder for their confidences. Somehow, by sharing with Daniel, the awfulness went away and the stories became just that -- stories. She could laugh now at some of her heartbreak, and he could, too. Not Sha'uri, of course. Her heart still clutched when she remembered the moment that Sha'uri had been taken from Daniel. She hadn't known him at all, really, but she recognized the love they had shared, and she had mourned its passing.

So she needed to confide in him. More than that, she needed his approval. She wanted him to hug her and shyly whisper how happy he was for her. She looked again at Teal'c, who was gazing back calmly at her, and thought her heart would break because she could not take his hand. He would want the same: for Daniel to be happy for them.

When they were home, she promised herself. The minute they were home.

"What does it say?" she asked him, but the colonel answered.

"Just the passing of a great man." She watched him and Daniel exchange glances -- something funny had happened, but she didn't know what. She was used to that, though. O'Neill and Daniel often seemed to communicate on another level entirely than the spoken word. She had to assume it was from their years together, maybe even from that first mission to Abydos, before she'd met either one of them. She used to be so envious of their easy camaraderie, and annoyed by their bickering, but now it didn't seem to matter. With embarrassment, she realized that it no longer mattered because she had her own special friend.

Carter, you are an idiot, she thought, but then Teal'c caught her eye again and all such thoughts fled. She felt a warmth between her legs and stretched them out before her so her muscles reminded her again of what they'd done last night and this morning. She smiled secretively at him, happy and content and aroused despite their circumstances. She wondered if they dare try to make love in their tent that night. Teal'c's eyes dropped briefly, first to her breasts and then to her legs. If Teal'c felt the risk was acceptable, they would.

She sighed and looked around her again. This would have been such a pretty place at one time. Then she saw that the colonel was watching her, his eyebrows lifted. She bit her lip and dropped her eyes, embarrassed, as if he could know what she'd been thinking or how she felt. She really really was an idiot.

"Jack? Can we go now?"

The colonel nodded, and Sam stood, swinging her pack up into Teal'c's arms. He helped her snap it into place, tugging at the shoulder straps lightly before resting his hands on her shoulders for a moment. She felt as though her entire body were on fire and knew she must be blushing terrifically. What had happened to her? How could this be, after their years of working together? She'd always liked and respected Teal'c, but suddenly her feelings had gone so far beyond friendship that she no longer recognized the territory. All she knew was that she needed him by her. In her life, in her bed. On her world.

She'd be a step-mother. Well, she never thought she'd have children, not with the life she'd so carefully chosen. But Ry'ac was a good boy. She would be proud to watch him grow up, safe and secure because of his father's sacrifices.

The colonel and Daniel had already moved out, and she watched as O'Neill twisted his head back to watch her for a moment more. "Coming, Carter?"

"Yes, sir."

As she walked beside Teal'c down the broad curving boulevard, he said, "My heart, we must be more discreet. You asked me not to disclose our relationship to O'Neill, but there will be no need."

"I'm sorry," she said, chastened by his words. He was right. "Do you think we should tell the colonel?"

"You know your custom better than I. I will abide by your decision. But it would be better to tell him than to permit him to discover it by himself."

She nodded. "Let me think about it," she finally said. She wanted to tell Daniel first, and then ask him if they should out themselves to the colonel. Daniel knew O'Neill better than anyone else in the world; he would know what they should do.

For nearly an hour more they wandered the streets of the ruined city, Daniel checking out every building he found interesting and that Jack deemed safe. There was little left; time and weather had seen to that, and Sam watched his disappointment grow.

They came to what had been a beautiful home; even Sam could tell that. The walls were still standing, the same white marble-like substance they'd seen so much of, with a wide rectangular opening where a door must've once hung. No cloth had survived the years since the city had collapsed, but this structure must've been built more sturdily than the others, because the lower portion was undamaged except by water and wind -- the ceiling and walls were still intact.

"Look," Daniel called, and she and Teal'c stood next to O'Neill at the doorway, shining a flashlight onto Daniel as he stood indoors. "This was a fireplace -- see the mantel?" It was mounded with leave mold and what Sam would have to classify as dirt, but Daniel gently sifted through it. "Oh, god, if only we had *time*," he moaned. "There's never any time to do this right."

"What's that, Daniel?" she asked to turn his attention away from the constraints of working on SG-1.

At one end of the mantel were lumps more firmly outlined that the detritus he'd been sifting through. "Careful," O'Neill said sharply, and Daniel nodded. He prodded at them with his forefinger, as cautiously as if they were landmines, and when nothing happened, began brushing the dust of the ages off them.

"Oh my god," he whispered, and O'Neill stepped into the building and to his side, weapon at the ready. "Look, Jack. It's a clock. *Clocc*, from Middle Irish, meaning *bell*." He picked it up and the two men stared down into the palm of his hand. Sam thought again how united a front they presented to the world, and felt again the pang of envy for their relationship before remembering that she, too, was part of someone else's life now. Teal'c stepped nearer to her, so their shoulders were touching, and they watched as O'Neill cautiously touched the object in Daniel's hand.

"Clocc," he repeated softly. "How can you tell, Daniel?"

"Well, to be honest, I can't. But I think it's a good guess. These marks -- I think they're numbers, in ogham, like on the plinth. So it could be a calendar, but the structure itself makes me think it's a clock."

He put the object into Jack's hand and returned to the mantel, eagerly brushing it off until he reached the surface. He froze for a moment, and then picked up something quite small and gently blew on it. "Let's go outside, where we can see better."

Sam and Teal'c backed up and let the other two out into the hazy sunlight. She saw that O'Neill held a box, a reddish-gold color, about four inches square, and that its edges were notched with careful, tiny chips that glittered in the light. She couldn't see what was in Daniel's hand, though, until he held it up to his eye. It was a silver ring, and she saw Daniel's blue eye right through it.

He blew on it again, and then held it out in the flat of his hand. "Look, look," he urged them, and she stepped closer. The design was of two clasped hands. "It's a claddagh ring," he said. "Although my understanding was the claddah ring design was only a few hundred years old. Maybe I'm wrong."

"More likely they're wrong," O'Neill said, and Sam liked him so much for his support of Daniel. "They've been wrong before."

"Who are 'they,' Jack?" Daniel asked him, but he was smiling into O'Neill's face. Sam smiled at them; she could afford to be generous now. Teal'c lightly touched the small of her back; when she glanced at him, she saw he was watching O'Neill and Daniel, too. She looked back in time to see O'Neill take the ring from Daniel's hand and, curiously, look through it, as Daniel had, into Daniel's eyes. Then he pulled his hand away from his face and looked at the ring.

"It's pretty," he finally said. "Reminds me of one my mother wore. She got it from her mother. Or grandmother. I forget." He looked back at Sam. "Some girl thing." She made a face at him. He handed the ring back to Daniel. "Keep it safe," he said softly, and then lightly slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's move out."

"Ja-ack. We've found --"

"Books, Daniel?"

"Okay."

Sam and Teal'c followed them again, back into the boulevard and on. She was getting a little tired, and discovered she was hungry again. When they reached this library of Daniel's, she'd suggest setting up camp and then fix a real meal. Real MREs, at least.

* * *

Daniel stared in dismay at the interior of the building he'd been certain was a library. And perhaps it had been. Or a records room for the city's archives. Who knew. No one ever would now.

The inhabitants of this city had recorded their work on many media. Paper, parchment, scrolls made of some sedge-like grass, like papyrus, codices, like the Romans had used, and what must've been digital recordings of various media -- a silver nitrate tape, or so Sam said. Were the tapes sound or video? And there were so many other objects, the purpose of which Daniel could only guess at.

The building was a museum, surely, and not a library? Or maybe their records had extended back for thousands of years? Why keep all these different kinds of recording devices together? Had time jumbled the contents? Ruined and rotten, the residua of a dead civilization, left scattered here, for him to grab like a grave robber in the no doubt vain hope of learning something about the people who had created all this.

Daniel stared around him in dismay. It wasn't just that there was no time to do proper archaeological surveys, though there wasn't; it was that even the best, most careful and comprehensive survey would never answer his questions. Only when Sam finally invented time travel and he could go back to meet the inhabitants would he know.

Even then, they probably thought so differently from me that they wouldn't understand my questions, nor I their answers, he thought glumly.

Jack was hovering, something he tended to do when Daniel was distressed. He stood up straighter and said, "It's okay, Jack. I'm okay."

"What's wrong, Daniel?"

Daniel gestured around them. They stood at the entryway into what must have been an enormous rotunda, now filled from nearly floor to ceiling with *stuff*. "What am I supposed to do, Jack? The four of us can't carry it all back. With the priorities of the SGC, how much time, how many scientists will be dedicated to researching this? The excavation alone would take months. Years." He looked up; he thought perhaps the rotunda had once been ringed with floors that had held the artifacts now mounded before them. If it had been, those floors had collapsed long ago, and were now disintegrating along with everything else.

"I'm sorry," Jack offered, and Daniel smiled gratefully. But what could he say? He was sorry, too. Sorry that the past was so irrevocably lost, and sorry that his misery was infecting his friend.

"Information wants to be free," he told Jack, aware that he was puzzling him. "It wants to move. It's a life form. Like a shark, if it isn't moving, it's dead. All this --" and he gestured dramatically -- "is dead." Daniel thought of his wife, his parents. Of Jack's son, and Sam's mother. Of Teal'c's Shau'nac. Of the inhabitants of this planet, and all their knowledge and wisdom and folk songs and bad jokes and terrible inventions. Dead and gone forever, and the best archaeologist on this world or any other could not retrieve a moment, nor a word, nor a sigh.

He could see that Jack didn't understand and was, in fact, worried about Daniel. He smiled. "It's okay." Jack stared at him, and then nodded.

"Carter and Teal'c are setting up camp," he said. "Come on." He lightly touched Daniel on the small of the back, a gesture Daniel found surprisingly comforting, and they left the library forever.

The hazy sunshine they'd had all day gave them a carnival sunset, like something out of Arizona Highways: deep mauve and rose, tropical yellow and apricot, and then distant blues shading into purple. All four members of SG-1 sat in front of the fire and watched the sky's colors shift into evening, and then the alien stars came out, ancient suns burning, long after the death of the worlds that encircled them.

A perfect night for melancholia, Daniel thought, dropping his gaze into the fire that Teal'c had built. Its comforting snap and warmth took the edge off his pensive mood, as did the tea that Sam had brewed. The MREs were as awful as ever, but the company was as good as it could be.

He looked around at his teammates. His friends. His family, really, after all these years and all they'd been through. Sam, glowing in the firelight, laughing at something Teal'c had said. Teal'c, his face softened by a rare smile. And Jack, tossing twigs into the fire and watching them ignite, lost, for the moment, in thought.

Without conscious effort, Daniel reached out to Jack and put his hand on his arm. He remembered seeing Jack's soapy hand on his arm; although he couldn't remember when, he remembered the comfort it had brought him. Jack looked at him evenly, his face masked by the night, but his eyes warm with affection. Jack loves me, Daniel thought, and smiled at him. That knowledge was its own warmth in this cold and pain-filled galaxy.

When Daniel fell asleep that night, listening to the fire that Jack kept burning while he kept watch, he dreamt of Saint Bridget, the Bride of Ireland. She was gazing placidly at him, standing on the bank of a fast-flowing river, the water frothing whitely around her feet. She held a loaf of bread in her left hand and in her right a ring of two clasped hands. She stared meaningfully at him, her eyes blue in her pale face, and he saw that one side of her face was beautiful, but the other side ravaged by age.

He woke with a gasp when Jack entered the tent. "Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. Weird dream."

Jack sat down with a thump and pulled off his boots. "Oh, god, that feels good," he said, wiggling his toes with evident satisfaction, and Daniel smiled. How many nights had he watched Jack do just that? And then pour the sand from his boot, as he was doing now? How comforting he found routines, he thought, and wondered what that said about him.

"Am I on watch?"

"Naw. Teal'c. Well, Teal'c and Carter. She said she couldn't sleep." Jack paused, but then continued undressing; whatever thought he'd had was gone now. "You want something?"

"No, no. I'm fine." Daniel wiggled around to get more comfortable, pulling the sleeping bag closer to his throat. The night had grown cold while he'd slept, and he dreaded his turn watching. It was so hard to get up in the dead of night and dress with cold-stiffened clothes. Sometimes he missed the desert, and Abydos, unbearably.

He sighed and twisted again. "You sure you're okay?" Jack asked him.

"Yeah. Just can't get comfortable."

"Here." Jack knelt on his own sleeping bag and began tugging at Daniel's, straightening out the fabric where it had twisted in his sleep. "You're like a little kid sometimes, Danny."

Daniel put his hand on Jack's. "No, I'm not," he said softly, and Jack smiled at him.

"No. You're not. Sorry."

"It's okay. You're just -- overprotective."

"My job."

"Your nature."

"Both things."

Daniel nodded. After all these years, he knew that. Jack was always there for him. Even when he wasn't really there, even after he'd left Daniel with Sha'uri, he'd been there in spirit with Daniel. The man he'd died for, all those years ago. Wait for me, Daniel had told him, and against all odds, he had waited.

And he waited now, kneeling next to Daniel's bed, his forearm warm in Daniel's hand. Daniel squeezed gently and said, "Good night."

Jack hesitated, and for a moment, Daniel thought he was going to lean over and kiss him goodnight. But he only said, "Good night," and crawled into his own sleeping bag.

Daniel lay awake for a long time, wondering if he'd imagined that aborted gesture, or if Jack really had been about to kiss him. He wished he had the courage to reach out to Jack. He wished for so much.

Sam woke him, gently shaking him awake so as not to wake Jack, whom they both knew worked too hard when they were off-world. He smiled at her sleepily, so then emerged from his bag feeling like an old man. Jesus, it was cold, and he huddled near the fire, drinking tea, while he sat watch. A kind of penance, he thought of it. From the Latin *paenitentia*, meaning *regret*. An act of contrition, in response to his sorrowful regret for the sins he'd committed: Losing Sha'uri. Unjustified anger at others. Impatience with those less gifted than he. Arrogance in the awareness of his intellectual abilities. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. He wasn't a Catholic, he wasn't much of anything now, but he knew the words and he meant them: He was sorry for the hurt he had caused on his world. On any world.

He looked at the opening to the tent he shared with Jack, and wondered about his relationship with that man. On P3X-468, he had held Jack's hand and later, on earth, Jack had hugged him, right in the hallway of his apartment building. He'd spent many hours thinking about that hug and what, if any, meaning he should read into it. Jack worked hard to create a facade of a simple soldier, but Daniel knew he was far more complex than he'd like others to know. He knew, because Jack had told him, that they were more than teammates, and that their friendship ran deep. He knew he'd hurt Jack over the years with his arrogance, with his refusal to be the good soldier or obedient civilian, and he regretted that. But he couldn't regret following his heart.

He remembered his dream of Saint Bridget. Maybe because they were on the Celts' home planet, he was focusing on Celtic ideas tonight. Bread, that had to mean home and hearth, and nothing was more important to the Celts than their kin. The ring -- that was obviously the ring that he'd found earlier today. A friendship ring, or a wedding ring. He needed to learn more about them when they returned to earth.

Why would Saint Bridget be holding it? What did it mean in conjunction with the bread? Or was it just a dream, something leftover from the MRE he'd eaten earlier?

He sighed, and tossed a pebble into the fire. Who knew. All that was left of this planet were dreams.

Dawn was gloomy; clouds had moved in over night and hung low over the city. The air was wetter, too, and Daniel's allergies began to act up. He felt like such a stereotypical geek, sneezing his head off, his teammates passing him kleenex. They explored a few more buildings near the library, and several avenues that led away from the civic center and park, but nowhere did they find what Daniel had been hoping for: information about the inhabitants. Only the inscriptions on the plinths of the statues offered any hope, and they faithfully videotaped, photographed, and copied down the ogham script notched into each one they found. They all carried samples of the ruined books and scrolls and codices in their packs; they would provide some answers, Daniel knew, but he also knew he was doomed to disappointment.

At noon, Jack said, "That's it, kids. Let's go back before the rain hits. You've got plenty to work with, Daniel; your department should be busy for months with all this."

Daniel nodded. He was tired and chilly and sick of sneezing. For once, he was happy to obey Jack and return.

"No Goa'uld have been here," Teal'c said confidently, and Daniel was astonished -- he'd never thought about them once, the entire time he'd been in this city.

"I doubt there's any naquadah, either," Sam told them, packing away her samples. "I think the ancients put the stargate here but it was never found by the Goa'uld."

"So what happened to these guys?" Jack asked as they strolled back.

"They did what we do," Daniel answered more confidently than he should have felt, but he knew he was right. "They went to another planet, to P3X-468, for weapons technology, found it, and destroyed themselves. They set up that warning for others. They saved us from ourselves."

No one said anything to that assessment. Well, Daniel thought, what could they say? He was probably right, but there'd never be any proof. All they had was another address for the computer to check off. No Goa'uld: check. No naquadah: check. No weapons technology: check. He felt cynical in his wisdom.

Or was he wise in his cynicism? He wasn't sure. He just wanted an antihistamine.

* * *

Sam was happy to be returning to earth. She and Teal'c had sat up half the night together, sharing their watches, and then had kissed the rest of the night away in their tent while Daniel kept watch. Neither dared risk making love off-world; they'd come to an unspoken agreement, but neither could they keep their hands off each other. She craved his body, she craved him, like some drug she was instantly addicted to, and she knew he felt the same. He kept touching her, driving her wild with his soft and subtle brushes against her shoulder or upper arm or thigh.

At one point she stared into his face, daring him to touch her more boldly, and was shocked to see the desire flare up in his eyes. She couldn't believe that the colonel or Daniel didn't see what was happening between them; it was electric, as powerful as the stargate itself. If she pushed him a bit further, he might do something unwise, she saw, and turned slightly away from him. He touched her arm again and she gasped with the energy that shot between them. She began to walk faster, not meeting his eyes.

At last they reached the stargate, and she trotted ahead to dial earth's address, leaving Daniel to activate the GDO once the wormhole had opened. And then they were home, they were stepping onto the ramp in the SGC, and she only had to get through the physical and she and Teal'c could go home together.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Daniel asked her again, and she shushed him, not wanting the doctors in the infirmary to overhear.

"I'm *fine*. I just want to go home," she said again, and he frowned at her doubtfully. "Really, Daniel. I promise." He nodded. She glanced around the infirmary, but the colonel was in an examining room and Teal'c was having his blood pressure taken. "Daniel, there's something I want to talk to you about. I'm okay," she hastened to reassure him. "In fact I'm wonderful. But I want to tell you. Can we meet for lunch?"

"Of course, Sam. What about dinner tonight?"

"No, I have plans. Tomorrow. I'll pick you up. My treat, okay?"

He nodded again, still frowning, and impulsively she kissed him. "I promise it's good stuff," she whispered, and at last he smiled.

"Are you in love, Sam?" She felt her entire body blushing, and saw his smile broaden. "Never mind. I'm so happy for you. Will you tell me who tomorrow?"

"I'll tell you *everything* tomorrow," she promised, and then he was called by one of the nurses. He left walking backwards, grinning at her, giving her a thumbs up, winking, until she rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.

"You have told Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asked, and she jumped.

"No, not yet. Tomorrow, though. I have to tell him."

"And you will seek his advice about O'Neill?"

"I will." They stared at each other. "Will you -- Can I pick you up? When they're through with me?"

"I would be more than disappointed if you did not, Samantha." She watched him leave, feeling the tie between them stretch out filament-thin but never breaking.

Tonight they would make love again, the way they had that first night. She would open her legs to him and welcome him into her body; she would give him anything at all, and she knew that she owned his body as well. He would kneel before her and put his face into her, smelling the scent that rose to welcome him. She knew she commanded his body.

* * *

Jack watched Carter and Teal'c from his cubicle. He knew, beyond any doubt, what had happened between them. They were lovers now. They loved each other. He could tell by the way they watched each other, the surreptitious touches, the color of Carter's face and the intensity of Teal'c's eyes. They were fucking like bunnies.

He sighed as more blood was drawn. "Vampires," he muttered, but only out of habit. He wondered again how the team dynamics would change now, and of the wisdom of his earlier decision to speak to Daniel about his own feelings. Jesus, how fucking *weird*, that Carter and Teal'c would act on their feelings at the exact moment he had decided to act on his. Was there some expiration date on the team? Should he worry?

Then he saw Daniel, shirtless, talking cheerfully to a nurse as she drew his blood, not muttering "vampire" under his breath and probably being treated a lot better as a result. He looked so young and defenseless, but the appearance was false, Jack knew. Daniel was older than he looked, and one of the least defenseless people Jack had ever met. But he might be defenseless before Jack. Would he say no to Jack? Could he? Even if he meant it, he might feel obligated to say yes regardless of his own desires.

No, that was stupid. Daniel never had the slightest problem telling Jack or anyone else no.

But in this case --

Well, Jack would just have to be damn observant. He was going through with this. It was stupid, it was probably unethical, and it was as illegal as hell, and none of that was going to stop him. The minute he was released from the infirmary, he snatched Daniel away from the too-attentive nurses and chivied him into his street clothes. "Come home with me," he said, but it wasn't a request. He had to do this. They both had to do this.

Daniel followed in his own car, which Jack thought was a good idea. He'd be able to flee screaming into the night if Jack's words disgusted him. Not that Daniel ever would; no, he was polite to everyone except System Lords, and even to a few of those. He would turn Jack down gently, or, Jack's fears returning, accept despite his repugnance.

It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner at any place nice, so Jack picked up burgers and fries, not the seductive dinner he might have planned, but food was food. Better than an MRE, anyway, and he knew that Daniel would agree. Beer was a staple in his home, which was where they ended up. Turned out, Daniel had stopped to buy beer, so they had some Chinese brand with their meal.

Once dinner was over and the paper and cardboard disposed of, Daniel fetched the cognac and Jack the snifters. Their ritual now included sharing the cognac at the kitchen table, and Jack turned out most of the lights, except the little one over the stove. The heater had kicked in, and the house was finally warm. Daniel lit a candle to take away the smell of the fast food, and then they finally settled.

Jack looked at Daniel sitting next to him, the brandy snifter held up, ready for their toast. "Last time we did this, you recited a poem," he reminded Daniel, who blushed.

"Yeah, uh. Sorry."

"No, no. Would you, uh, say it again?"

Daniel stared at him, then blushed deeper. He took a deep breath, and said, "Yes. I will.

"Wine comes in at the mouth

 

And love comes in at the eye;

 

That's all that we will know for truth

 

Before we grow old and die.

 

I lift the glass to my mouth,

 

I look at you and I sigh."

The two men looked at each other, as they had so many times before -- a look filled with knowledge of the other, with affection, gratitude, exasperation, and love. "I love you," Jack heard himself say, and then lightly tapped his glass against Daniel's.

He swallowed the cognac, hoping it would rush to his head and blur all this. He watched Daniel watching him, but refused to drop his eyes or look away. At last Daniel smiled, an enormous smile that brought an answer to Jack's face. "I love you, Jack," he said, and clinked his glass against Jack's before taking a sip of the cognac. "What decided you to tell me?"

Jack shook his head, still smiling. "It's just time. Wasn't fair to you, either, me lovin' you so much and you not knowing.

"Daniel, I need to be sure you understand what I'm saying."

"Oh, I understand."

"No, see --"

"Jack."

"Daniel, let me --" But Daniel kissed him, spilling the cognac and bumping into the table, but a real kiss, a lover's kiss, and Jack knew that Daniel really did understand.

"Oh, Christ," he said, and set down the glass so he could take Daniel into his arms. They stood up, Jack's chair falling backwards and hitting the refrigerator, and Jack's arms were suddenly filled with the warm, firm body he'd desired for so long.

Daniel's mouth was sharp from the cognac and Jack sucked eagerly at his tongue, then licked his lips, licking the last of cognac from them, before kissing him again. Daniel put his hands on Jack's ass, which nearly undid him, and pulled Jack against him so he could feel his excitement. I did this, Jack thought, nudging his hip against Daniel's erection. Holy shitola, I did this to Daniel. Then he slipped his hands down Daniel's back to cup his ass, sliding one finger along the seam of his jeans, and Daniel practically climbed Jack like a telephone pole.

This was gonna work out just fine, Jack thought, and then he didn't think anymore for a while.

"What are we gonna do?" he asked Daniel when they finally paused to gasp for breath.

Daniel looked at him, very seriously, and stroked his face, cupping his hand around Jack's chin and leaning in to kiss him again. "I don't give my heart lightly, Jack," he said. "Nor, I think, do you. So we're going to go to bed now, together, and make love, as many times as men our age can make love in one night, and then tomorrow things will be different, because we'll be together." He kissed Jack again, drawing him closer, caressing his back, his chest, daring to touch Jack's dick through his trousers, a touch that shot sparks through Jack's body and brain so fiercely that he had to close his eyes and pant for air. "Jack."

He opened his eyes. Daniel held out a ring, the claddagh ring they'd found on P4X-531. Daniel had had it cleaned and polished, so it gleamed in the little light of the kitchen. Jack couldn't believe he'd taken it off-base, but there it sat, in Daniel's long, pale hand.

"How?"

Daniel smiled seductively. "I stole it. At least for tonight. You said it reminded you of your mother's ring." He held it out to Jack.

This is what I wanted, Jack reminded himself, his heart thumping erratically. I wanted this man in my life, in my bed, and he's offering himself to me. He put his hand around Daniel's so their two hands closed around the ring, and then he kissed Daniel's wrist.

Daniel kissed him again, fiercely, so he felt Daniel's teeth and tongue pushing against his, and then he led Jack to bed. Typical Daniel, Jack thought fondly. Never a half step, never even a whole step, but always a block and a half. So he went to bed with Daniel, as he'd dreamed of so many times, and after they'd pulled the sheets half off the mattress and kicked over the alarm clock on the end table, Jack lay panting with desires he didn't know he possessed. "You're going to kill me, aren't you," he said to Daniel, who ignored him and continued to suck on Jack's dick while firmly massaging his balls. Jack dropped his head back down to stare at the ceiling and remembered his dream.

Jack had dreamed that he'd sat in his kitchen reading the newspaper and drinking cognac. Daniel had let himself in and walked into the kitchen, slinging his jacket over the back of the chair. He had grinned at Jack. "I'm home," he'd said, to Jack's relief and pleasure.

"Oh, god, I'm coming," Jack cried, and did, right down Daniel's eager throat, and then Daniel turned him onto his stomach and lay on top of him, carefully fitting his dick between the cleavage of Jack's ass so he could rub against Jack while kissing his neck. He came, there, too, all over Jack's ass and back, which was a little disgusting, Jack thought, but pretty fucking exciting, too. And when he was cleaned up and permitted to lie on his back again, Daniel on top once more, kissing him hungrily, Jack put his hands on Daniel's face to make him pause, just for a moment.

"What?" he said crossly, and Jack smiled at his avidity.

"Just wanted you to know that you're home," he said softly, and was stunned at Daniel's response.

He stared down at Jack, his eyes hot with desire and tender with love, before kissing him, but gently this time. "I know," he whispered. "You're my home. You've always been home."

Jack lay his head back down and let Daniel eat his mouth, ardent but calmer now, sweeter. He stroked his hand down Daniel's sweat-slicked side again and again, learning the feel of his body: his tender skin, the bones beneath, the muscles of his lower back, the swell of his ass. He sighed into Daniel's mouth; he was too spent to rise to Daniel's entreaties just then, but they had all night, they had forever.

He gently pushed at Daniel's hip while rolling, and Daniel obediently slid off him, so they lay side by side. He hooked a leg behind Daniel's, rubbing against him; it all felt so delicious, as if he were in some erotic dream. The room was warm, the sheets sweaty beneath them, his heart still racing from his orgasm and the excitement of Daniel coming against him, the excitement of Daniel's desire for him, and he felt as though he were swimming in some new sea of concupiscence. He smiled at the thought; oh, would the priest who'd led him through his catechism and confirmed him be shocked at that. Or perhaps not.

"What?" Daniel murmured against his smile, and then kissed him. "Do you find this amusing?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say *amusing*," he reassured him, and bent his head to kiss Daniel more firmly. I'm making love to Daniel, he thought, and turned his attention to the task. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to please Daniel, and thought that, at least tonight, that would be an easy task.

Daniel's cock was hard against his hip, and he pushed himself against it to hear Daniel gasp and then shove back. The ring sat on a bedside table, gleaming in the night, but Jack spared only one glance for it. It had done its job. From one world to another, across untold distance, a reminder of Jack's ancestry, it had come to him, through Daniel, and done what Jack had been unable to do by himself.

He slipped a hand between them, feeling the difference in texture between his skin and Daniel's, between Daniel's firm, trembling stomach and his own, slightly softer belly, then down to Daniel's pubic hair, slightly scratching against his hand, and then to Daniel's cock; it filled his hand, so he grasped it firmly and pulled.

Daniel made a noise like no other Jack had ever heard, and felt himself begin to harden in reply. His hand was slick with Daniel's and his sweat, and each stroke made him tremble more in desire. He tighted his leg, hooking his heel against the cleft of Daniel's ass, so Daniel rolled even closer to him and he had to twist his wrist awkwardly, but it all felt so good, impossibly good.

Then Daniel forced his hand between them and seized Jack's cock, and he gave himself up to the sensual pleasure of loving a man like Daniel.

* * *

Teal'c pushed into Samantha again; his cock was sore but he couldn't stop, he'd never felt such sexual urgency in all his long life. It was as though some switch had been thrown that couldn't be turned off, and all he could think of was Samantha, the brilliantly golden Samantha. She cried out, and he knew she was sore, too, but just as willing as he was, and she opened her legs wider, bending her knees and rolling up on her hips to meet his every thrust, moaning to catch her breath. When he felt her come again, trembling against him, he permitted himself to come, deep in her body, groaning at that thought, and felt himself start to rise again almost immediately.

"No, no," she moaned, but she was moving again, too; her body still desired his and he wondered if they'd ever be able to stop.

"Will you tell Daniel Jackson about this?" he demanded as he pushed into her again and again, jealous of his dear young friend, but she was lost in the sensation and couldn't answer. "Would you tell O'Neill?" But it didn't matter, no one mattered, they belonged only to one another. She was his home, now. Chulak was gone, a dream; his wife had left him, his one-time lover had died, but Samantha had come to him and given him all he longed for: her beautiful body, her powerful intelligence, and her pent-up desires, and she was his Land of Light now, she was his home.


End file.
